Jigsaw Pieces
by fadedmystery
Summary: Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman are not friends. And maybe, she thinks, that's the problem.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N:** After months of no inspiration, I am back in the writing scene, this time in the fandom that I have been obsessed with since I first started watching the show: Glee. I simply adore the show (how awesome was the Sectionals episode, guys?) especially the Puck/Rachel pairing; after 'Mash-up', I feel that there's potential there, plus the chemistry is amazing. While my Life with Derek future fics have taken a backseat for awhile, I do hope to post something new in the LWD fandom soon, but for now, here's my first foray into the Glee fandom. This is my first Glee fic, and also my first multi-chapter story, so as always, constructive criticism is welcome! Read, review, and enjoy! :)

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter One**

The second time everything explodes, she goes to _him_.

No, not to Finn, although she wanted to, god knows she did. But after the latest altercation between Finn and Noah (that involved loud voices, chair kicking, curses and many other things she'd really rather not mention), Quinn had gone after him first. Though it hadn't been easy, Rachel had decided not to follow; considering her selfish intentions in telling him in the first place, she figured she owed Quinn that much.

So now she's in the bleachers, walking towards the mohawked teenager, still not quite sure what she's doing and more importantly, _why_ (then again, if there's one flaw of hers that she's had yet to correct, then it's that she hasn't learned to leave things alone.) There's really no reason for her to be here, and she doesn't understand what compelled her to find him, but her rational side tells her that she's just doing her duty as group captain.

He has a scowl on his face and he doesn't say a word when she sits near him, and the fact that it's eerily reminiscent of their breakup (can she even call it that when they weren't even technically dating?) doesn't escape her.

It's silent and it's not the kind of quiet she'd call comfortable. He doesn't even acknowledge her presence, almost like she isn't there at all. Her first thought is that this kind of silence and stealth she's displayed will be incredibly useful in the event that she's cast in a role that somehow involves espionage, but then she realizes that he's most probably ignoring her on purpose.

"Are you okay, Noah?" she finally asks, almost tentatively, and it hits her how seldom she says this to someone else.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat and gives her a look that she can only describe as 'withering'. "Look, Berry, the name is Puck. And anyway, what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be off in the sunset with Finn? Now would've been your chance to make a move."

His tone and words sting her, but the back of her mind tells her it hurts because it's true. Still, her tone is bristling as she snaps, "I'm merely trying to help here. I've been told far too many times how abrasive and unconcerned I can be of other people's feelings, and as a future star who will undoubtedly work with countless people, I have to rectify this flaw while early. I am trying, so just…" she repeats, suddenly feeling unsure. "Are you okay?"

"For someone so smart, that's a pretty stupid question." There's no missing the bitterness in his voice and while she's disappointed at him for getting his best friend's girlfriend pregnant, she can't help but feel quite sorry for him. She knows she's not adept at reading people, but something tells her that after everything that's happened, no one's really gone to check on him. And while he doesn't show it, there's…._something_ that makes her realize that he's hurting too, just like Finn and Quinn. Possibly even more.

(She's not quite sure how she knows all this, but she just _does_. Don't forget: She's kind of psychic.)

"I'll ignore your verbal stabs because I know it stems from your present anger. But you really should treat people who just want to help with a little bit more kindness. We're a team, and after everything at Sectionals, I'd like to think we've become a stronger unit."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?" The conversation's focus suddenly shifts, and while she's never been one to shy away from attention, this suddenly makes her feel uncomfortable. "Wake up, Berry—we won Sectionals out of luck. Finn's always looking like he wants to kill me, Quinn won't let anyone help her, and the rest of them still think you're an annoying diva and hell, so do I. We may be able to sing together, but that doesn't mean we're all friends."

She frowns at that and there's silence. The optimistic side of her is saying that his words are probably just cynical because of his mood but---sadly, he does have a point. When they sing, they're together, a unit, but outside Glee Club…usually, the Cheerios and the football players band together, Mercedes and the rest of the original members are together and as for the rest of them, as for _her_—she's still alone.

She talks and interacts and laughs but they don't share secrets with her and there are no trips to the mall or sleepovers. She doesn't have the close band of friends she thought she'd have, and more importantly, she doesn't have Finn. And maybe some of it is her fault (she's nothing if not self-aware), and maybe their personalities just don't mix but when it all comes down to it, the truth of the matter is that real life is not following the script she'd written up for herself a long time ago.

(When she thinks of the play and the glee club photo, she realizes that the phrase 'lonely at the top' has never been truer.)

"That was what you said to me last time," she tells him quietly, avoiding his gaze, which isn't difficult since he's avoiding hers as well. "'We weren't friends before'. Funny, isn't it, that we keep rehashing the same topics at this same spot."

"Yeah, well, you brought it up, so…you know what, just--whatever. Just stop talking, Berry. I can't hear myself think with you talking a mile a minute," he replies, his tone now frustrated and Rachel can't help but think, _what a strange conversation this is turning out to be._

"Then why don't you just leave?"

That's when he looks at her, almost incredulous is his expression. "Dude, I was here first."

"You do have a point there," she concedes with a small laugh and honestly, this is the oddest talk she's probably had in a long while. Even the few moments when they talked during their brief romantic entanglement hadn't been this awkward. "Although I will have you know that I resent being called that. I am most certainly not, as you so ineloquently put it, a 'dude'."

"You don't need to tell me, Berry, I know that fact well enough." He grins, and while it's suggestive and shows quite well that he's thinking of those make-out sessions in her room, it's the first pseudo-smile he's given since the earlier fight and Rachel thinks that maybe, just maybe, something good might come out of this after all. "Even if you didn't let me touch your boobs," he adds as an afterthought.

"You're disgusting," she informs him primly, but the upturns of her mouth give her away. Her odd relationship with Noah had been…interesting, to say the least. It was a complete deviation from her life script to be sure, but she can't just forget that it happened; nor can she ignore it. "And I do have a first name, you know."

"Berry's shorter," he replies with a shrug. Rachel's eyes widen.

"My first and last names both have two syllables!"

"But 'Berry' has fewer letters." His look is devoid of emotion but when Rachel gives him a look she can see some amusement lurking in his eyes (and how strange that she hasn't noticed how green they are till now.)

There's another silence but it isn't quite as tense as before. "This is weird," he declares and she agrees. "We didn't even talk like this when we hooked up."

"We hardly talked at all," she tells him frankly. "Our relationship, though brief, was more of a physical one and we were in it for the wrong reasons. Hence, not much to talk about. And because you didn't accept my offer of friendship, we had no point in conversing. Besides, coming from different levels of the social strata, what reason would we have to talk at all? Apart from the slushies, if you hadn't joined Glee Club we might not have any interaction at all."

"Yeah," he says slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "About those slushies—I already said I was sorry."

"I know," she says and she's not even mad at him for that, at least, not anymore. He'd been sincere during his apology in the bathroom, and at the very least, she hadn't been doused with the cold beverage since. Besides, now that this pregnancy news had come around, the slushies he'd poured on her seem almost petty. And while she can't deny that she was shocked at the news, she's not one to hold grudges. She forgave Finn after she found out Quinn was pregnant, didn't she?

"I give up thinking. My brain hurts," he mutters, but loud enough for her to catch it and she can't help but smile. She's surprised when he stands and involuntarily, she does the same. "Look, Berry, I gotta jet. Thanks for the company, I guess—even if I didn't ask for it."

He doesn't even wait for her reply. Noah turns and leaves, and suddenly, she's standing alone in the bleachers, watching his retreating figure and wondering what on earth had just happened. It was without a doubt the strangest interaction she'd had. There was no sincere feelings talk, no heartfelt discussions; just random, disjointed words that didn't even qualify as a decent conversation—but then again, what else could she expect from someone who didn't even wait for her to give her parting words? Didn't friends at least stick around to hear their friends' 'goodbye's'?

Oh, wait. She forgot the one simple fact: Conversation or not, Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman are not friends. And maybe, she thinks almost dazedly as he disappears from her line of sight completely, that's the problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. **First of all, thank you so much to all those who reviewed and alerted the first chapter! You guys rock, seriously *sends virtual chocolate chip cookies to all* Here's the second chapter…another work written in one sitting out of a burst of inspiration, so if it doesn't make that much sense, then please do tell. Oh, and constructive criticism/reviews = love.

Also, just caught the Golden Globe nominations—congrats to Glee and the cast for getting four nods! They totally deserve it.

**Disclaimer: **Nope, don't own anything.

****

* * *

Jigsaw Pieces

Chapter Two

When Finn greets her with an easy smile the next day, it's almost too easy to forget everything that's happened (even just for a split-second.)

"Hello, Finn." She shuts her locker and returns his smile with one of her own, although she's aware her tone is somewhat wary. Their few conversations have lately had her feeling as if she's tiptoeing around broken glass, and with him so obviously distant and distracted, she knows better than to rock the boat.

"Hey." He's still smiling as he begins walking alongside her. The hallway's bustling with people as usual, but they both pay no mind to them. "So, uh…I didn't see you yesterday. I mean, I did, but after—you know--" he ends awkwardly as he shoves his hands in his pockets and Rachel thinks that Finn probably wouldn't appreciate being told that he hadn't found her because she was with his ex-best friend.

(She doesn't know what surprises or makes her feel guilty more: that she wants to be a friend to the person who impregnated the girlfriend of the boy she's in love with, or that it doesn't feel that much like betrayal.)

"I had to leave early," she explains, and this is one of the times she's thankful for being well-versed in the art of acting. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she deftly changes the subject. "So….how are you? We haven't really talked much in awhile."

"I'm good, you know, considering…" He shrugs and it's all very casual but even she can't miss the thinly-veiled sadness around him.

"I never wanted you to get hurt," she says honestly. "I just felt you needed to know the truth, but--"

"No, it was a good thing you told me. I mean, I just feel like such an idiot right now, you know? But at least I know everything; no more secrets, no more lies." Finn furrows his brow and idly Rachel wants to tell him that that'll give him frown lines but abruptly realizes that that's the least of his worries right now.

He nods his head repeatedly, and she's not sure whether he's trying to convince her or himself.

"Hey." He stops her suddenly and she meets his gaze. They're in the middle of the hallway and when he lays a hand on her shoulder, it's all kinds of cliché but she doesn't mind because she feels a thrill and _this is how it's supposed to be. _

"You've been a really great friend, Rachel," he tells her. The first warning bell begins to ring and he looks back for a split second before turning back to her. "I just wanted to say thanks for—well, just thanks." And with one last small smile he removes his hand and leaves her standing in the hallway by herself.

_You've been a really great friend. _It scares her how each day makes it look more and more like that's all she's ever going to be to him.

_And now neither of us have him._

The thought passes through her mind and she can't explain why but she turns her head to the left. Turns her head and meets the eyes of Quinn Fabray, and the look on the girl's face tells her all too well that she'd seen them together.

They keep each other's gazes for a moment and it's almost like a silent understanding (of what, Rachel isn't sure), and at the same time, it isn't. Whatever it is, it makes her decide to just let it go, so she averts her eyes first and continues walking down the hallway. She leaves with her shoulder tingling from Finn's touch and her mind imprinted with Quinn's expression, a look she knows all too well to describe it as anything else: heartbreak.

_She's the one who cheated on Finn. She's the one who lied._

It doesn't make her feel any better.

* * *

When Mr. Schue says, "Alright guys, I guess that's a wrap for today," she thinks she's never been more relieved to see Glee rehearsal end.

Ever since they won Sectionals, Glee has been the same, and at the same time, different. They sing and joke and chat but there's a tension that wasn't there before. And if there's one thing Rachel knows, it's that tension among members is not a good thing for any performance group.

Once she realizes she's alone, she walks to the piano. She'd asked Mr. Schue earlier if she could stay to practice more--after the events of the past few weeks and especially after the events of today, she wants to have one moment where she can sing her troubles away. She wants to feel like herself again, the driven, talented girl who'll one day defy gravity instead of the insecure, selfish girl that she's become, the one who helped break three hearts just by telling the truth.

Pressing the keys, she of course starts with some vocal exercises. That done, she begins to sing Barbra Streisand's "I'm the Greatest Star" to the empty choir room, actions and all (and she swears her motives are not purely narcissistic. She just happens to like Funny Girl, that's all.)

_"I'm the greatest star. I am by far..."_

"Really, Berry?" And just like that, the magic fades and she finds herself face to face with Noah, who's giving her a strange look, one eyebrow raised. "I knew you were crazy but I never pegged you for delusional too."

She chooses to ignore the jab. "What are you even doing back here?"

"Left my jacket," he says with a shrug as he goes to pick up said item. Slinging it over his shoulder, he nods at her. "I'm gonna go now, so you can get back to whatever the hell it is you were doing."

"I was projecting," she informs him primly with a huff. "Allowing oneself to perform actions and gestures whilst singing is an extremely helpful way to better express the message and emotion of the song."

He cracks a grin at that and she just _knows _that he's going to come up with another remark. "So that song's about someone who escaped from the psych ward? 'Cuz, you were jumping and looking crazier than usual---"

"Ugh," she exclaims, exasperated. "I know how much you value your reputation, but do you always have to be such a jerk all the time? Considering that I'm one of the very few people who are still willing to talk to you civilly, I'd have thought you'd at least show some semblance of appreciation."

His eyes narrow and suddenly, there's nothing teasing in them anymore. "Look, I never asked you to play nice with me, Berry. I don't know what your angle is, okay, but enough. I know you're giving Finn some space and shit, but that doesn't mean you can make me your little pity project in the meantime."

She shakes her head—this will no doubt take some explaining, and there's really no way to go about it but the truth. "But I'm not, I just—I may not approve of your choices but to some extent, I do understand how you're feeling. We both lost something we never really had in the first place."

He doesn't say anything and looks away and she wonders why he hasn't left yet. She wonders why she's fighting so hard for this, but as of the moment, it looks like there are just some questions that will be left unanswered. So they stand in silence.

It's him who breaks it first. "So, uh," he says, glancing at the clock. "What the hell are you still doing here, anyway?"

"Well, obviously, I'm here to practice. It never hurts to rehearse a little more than necessary. Besides, Daddy's going to run a bit late in picking me up today, so I decided to make good use of my time."

"Late? How late?" When she informs him, his eyes actually widen. "Dude, that's like, an hour and a half from now."

"I'm aware of that," she replies, fixing him with a look that she hopes conveys the message that she does not appreciate being called a _dude_. "I would leave earlier, but my fathers are still apprehensive about giving me my own car and anyway, it's not like I have friends or anyone really to catch a ride with," she adds matter-of-factly.

He nods and again, awkward silence steps in. Noah puts on his jacket and she's sure he's going to leave, when she hears him mutter something like, _"probably gonna regret this"_ and he says out loud, "Hey, uh…do you want a ride home or something?"

The request is so random and sudden that for a moment, Rachel can't help but stare, eyes going wide (she'll remind herself later that it's probably not a good look to use when she's finally posing for photographs.) "A ride home with…with you?"

"Duh, Berry, do you see anyone else around here?" he asks impatiently.

"B-but…why?" She does believe that this is one of the rare moments that have rendered her almost speechless.

He rolls his eyes. "Because I'm probably turning out to be a masochist. Look, does it matter? I'm just offering—it's either a yes or a no. I don't really care either way."

The "yes" tumbles out of her lips before she can help herself.

"Okay." He sounds bored again, and he _clearly_ doesn't realize how important this moment suddenly is. There may be some hope for him after all. "So, if you're done '_projecting'_ or whatever, grab your stuff so we can go."

This whole situation still feels somewhat surreal but she does what she's told for once and follows him out the choir room.

* * *

Nothing profound happens on the ride home. She gives him directions to her house, and they argue about the radio station _("Your taste in music is appalling; I mean, have you heard the lyrics to those songs of yours?" "Right back at 'ya, babe.")_ And when he pulls up in front of her house, she quietly unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car.

"Thank you for driving me home," she tells him with a smile.

"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't," he grumbles, switching the radio station as he does so. "Just so we're clear, this is a one-time thing. This doesn't mean we're friends or anything, got it?"

"Of course," she hastily agrees. "Thanks again." As she starts walking to the front door she can hear his car drive away and this day is definitely another one she can add to her collection of extremely strange days: Having feelings for Finn but extending an olive branch to Noah, him driving her home…well at least, she figures that when the time comes, she'll have some pretty interesting material in her autobiography.

Maybe the truth is that they're more alike than she'd care to admit. Or maybe she feels a twisted sort of kinship with Noah because he's alone now, too. Whatever it is, there's no denying the realization that that car ride home is the least lonely she's felt in a long, long while.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N:** Hey guys! I apologize if something feels off about this one, but I really wanted to post something before Christmas. Where I live, we only have two more hours to go before Christmas Eve, so I'm counting the hours. As always, constructive critiques and reviews = Christmas presents wrapped in shiny paper and topped off with a pretty bow. Happy Holidays, everyone! :)

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own anything.

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**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Three**

Contrary to popular belief, Rachel Berry does not want to be popular.

She wants to be _liked_, and there is a stark contrast between the two. While popularity entails a high place in the social hierarchy, it also goes without saying that there are people who secretly hate you because of your status. And since she's already hated, she'd much rather be liked for who she is, thank you very much.

(Don't get her wrong: she's well aware that popularity is synonymous with fame. But popularity in a high school context is much harsher, and anyway, she's assured that when she does achieve fame, it'll be because of her talent and that she will be mature enough to handle its uglier side.)

It's a sad, sad day when she realizes that Glee club hasn't helped her achieved even that.

_"We may be able to sing together, but that doesn't mean we're all friends."_ It's uncomfortable but she can't seem to forget those words. There's no denying the truth in them—even when together, they do tend to stay within their own cliques. Now that they've come down from the high of winning Sectionals, their spirit is steadily declining and with everything going on—well, it may not affect their performance much, but a little more camaraderie wouldn't hurt.

The idea hits her in History class. _Of course_—it's such a good idea that she's shocked she didn't think of it before. The grin which suddenly surfaces in her facial expression is out of place in the ridiculously boring classroom atmosphere, but it doesn't matter because now she has a plan, and she is determined to see it through.

One way or another, they'll all be a close-knit group. And maybe when they finally take that bus to Regionals, the seat next to hers won't be last one occupied.

* * *

"Okay guys," Mr. Schue claps his hands. "Before we get started, Rachel has something to say." She flashes him a smile as she makes her way to the front, ready to address her teammates.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make." She frowns once she sees their expressions. "What?"

"Sorry," Kurt replies, though he doesn't really sound sorry at all. "It's just that the last time you made an announcement, you got Mr. Schue kicked off as faculty adviser, so…"

She chooses to ignore the thinly-veiled insult and keeps the smile plastered on her face. "Don't worry, this doesn't really concern us a performing group, but more of…us as teammates. We faced a tremendous hurdle during Sectionals, and now we're stronger than ever. But with all the pressure and problems surrounding us, we haven't really had a chance to celebrate our win at Sectionals. And I really think that it'll really help strengthen our ties as a group if we convened out of a club setting."

"Girl, just cut to the chase already!" Mercedes exclaims and she sighs deeply before addressing them once again with a smile.

"I'm saying that next Friday, we will be having," she pauses for dramatic effect. "A party at my house."

What happens next is….something, alright, but '_pandemonium'_ is the first word that comes to mind.

"Well, that's great, but uh---"

"That'd be nice, but we're super busy--"

"—with practice and school---"

"Lots to do, so uh---"

"—there's a family thing next Friday---"

"Well, the thing is---"

"Guys!" Mr. Schue ends their babbling with a clap of his hands and honestly, she can't for the life of her understand why they look the way they do. They are smiling, but it's clearly fake and they don't look as surprised or enthusiastic as she'd originally thought.

"Look, I know it's a surprise but I actually like this idea," he says and she throws him a grateful look –_thanks, Mr. Schue_. "You've been working so hard and with all the drama going on—you guys deserve a break and I really think that this'll be good for the club. Hanging out more outside of the club fosters camaraderie, brings you closer. So yeah, I'm behind Rachel on this one."

She beams at him before turning back to the rest of the club. "Well?"

"Yay. Can't wait." Its Noah's deadpanned voice that rises above the less-than-enthusiastic 'okays' and nods of her group mates. They're all glancing at one another with raised eyebrows and some are frowning but their response, far from discouraging, only makes her realize that this is the right thing to do.

* * *

"Didn't I tell you about that being a one-time thing?"

He's grumbling and he looks annoyed but Rachel perseveres. "Look, I'm sorry but I really wouldn't ask unless I was out of options. I really need to get home early today and since they're working late, I can't wait for either of my fathers to pick me up."

"Can't you find someone else to drive you home? I mean, I'm not the only guy with a car at this school, you know."

"Yes, but...." she pauses, and when she continues she almost hates how much smaller her voice sounds. "...you're the only one who was willing to help me last time."

"I was the only one there!" he exclaims, throwing her an incredulous look.

"Regardless." She brushes it off and decides to appeal to the better nature she knows is in there somewhere. "This town has a relatively small Jewish community, and when one is in need of help, it's our duty to look out for each other. And like I said before, I really wouldn't ask unless I was desperate. Please?" She even tops it off with a pleading look, the one her fathers say always gets her what she wants.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time, and when he finally looks her in the eye again, his expression is anything but pleased. "Two conditions," he says. "One, this is the last time I'm giving you a ride. Two, you keep your mouth shut the entire time. Three, no arguing about the music."

She's so relieved to finally have a ride home that she can't even be bothered to point out that he'd said three conditions instead of two. "I guess I can agree to those terms. Deal."

He shakes his head and with an over-exaggerated sigh, he says, "Come on, let's go."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how she ends up being driven home by Noah Puckerman for the second time.

* * *

She doesn't keep her mouth shut.

Rachel is aware that she's breaking his conditions and while she does apologize, she just can't _not_ speak out. The music he's chosen is some travesty of a rock song with outrageously immoral lyrics, and listening to it is like listening to nails scratching on a chalkboard.

The moment she starts speaking, he cuts her off with, "Didn't I tell you to zip it?"

"I'm sorry, but I simply can't understand how you like this kind of music," she exclaims. "It's, well, to put it simply, horrible."

"Just because it isn't something from a musical doesn't mean it sucks. And you're breaking my rules—one more word and I'm dropping you off right here."

She gives him a piece of her mind anyway (partly because she knows he'd never make good with his threat.)

"—and the lyrics are simply disgusting and near incomprehensible, with all the screeching and screaming that's being done--"

"Alright, I'll change the damn station, god!" He looks supremely annoyed as he switches stations. "Don't you have, like an off button or something? Do you always have something to say for _everything_?"

"Well, it's good to be well versed in--"

"Just…_stop_, okay?" He looks aggravated and it's sad, really, when she realizes that this is one of the few actual conversations she's had with others in awhile. "Should've known it was gonna backfire. Figures."

"Excuse me?"

"I chose that awful music on purpose. Knew it'd annoy the hell out of you, especially since you weren't allowed to say anything. But you just can't help yourself, can you?"

"You subjected yourself to auditory torture just to _annoy_ me?" She's bewildered, honestly—what kind of person would _do_ that?

"Sure," he shrugs, like it's no big deal. "Hey, at least I didn't need to spend anything this time. Not like with the Slushies--"

"Ugh," she exclaims, leaning against the seat. "You are insufferable."

"Piece of advice Berry—stop using those big words when you insult people because it like, totally loses the effect if they can't understand what you're saying."

She huffs and makes a show of looking out the window and pointedly ignoring him. When he doesn't seem to care, she gives up and breaks the silence. "Although, I admit, I am relieved to know that you didn't like that music. I was beginning to think that that kind of music appealed to our generation—I shudder to think if I really went ahead and played that during the party."

"Speaking of which, what's the deal with this party thing anyway?" He turns left before replying again. "You announced it yesterday but I still don't get what your angle is."

"I just thought it'd be good for the club, like I said yesterday. As Captain, I have to make sure morale is up and that relationships aren't destroyed within the group."

"You can't fix everyone," he points out.

"I can _try_," she retorts.

"Berry, do you even know how to throw a party? Hell, have you even gone to one before?"

She gives him a glare. "I may not have tried before, but it can't be too hard. After all, all I have to follow are the basics- food, music, scheduled entertainment such as parlor games or performances."

"Yeah, if you're six," he replies with a snicker. "You try making a schedule for a high school party and you'll see it get shot to hell before the last person arrives."

"I'd like to think the people in Glee are a little more sophisticated than that."

"And I'd like to think that I could be doing something else instead of driving you, but we can't get everything we want, can we?"

"Will you stop trying to discourage me? It isn't going to work and frankly, it's annoying. I'm throwing this party, and one way or another, Glee club will become friendlier with one another. Besides, parties are always a good catalyst for new friendships."

"Wait a sec." He looks as though he's understanding something for the first time. "You think throwing a party is going to _make people_ _like you_?" Because the traffic light is red, he takes the opportunity to turn to her with a raised eyebrow.

"I decided to throw a party to boost the club's morale and allow us to relax!" she protests, but his expression doesn't change, so she adds, "Although I will admit, I hoped that that would be one of the by-products."

"Look, Berry, here's the thing." He actually turns off the radio and Rachel feels the beginnings of a serious conversation in the air (or as serious as a conversation with Noah Puckerman can get anyway.) "It's not a party you need to throw, but more like your personality. Trash it and go find a nicer one."

"Excuse me?" she snaps, affronted. "I'm well aware that there are some aspects of my personality that require work, but I fail to understand how the trait of striving to be the best is repulsive to anyone."

"That's just it," he says simply and who does he think he's talking to? A 5 year-old? "You're insane, too intense. No one likes being around your level of diva for too long--it's annoying."

It's a weird moment to be sure, because while she's understandably mad by his rather brutal assessment of her character, she can't help but be a tiny bit impressed that he has no problem being honest with her. "So you're saying that I should change who I am?"

His eyes are on the road but there's an expression on his face that she can only describe as 'long-suffering'. "Not all of it. Just tone down the crazy and we'll be fine."

She frowns at that. "I don't…quite understand what that means."

There's a very distinct muttering of, "That's a first," before he says out loud, "Just... be a little more chill. You know, stop stealing the spotlight and stop storming out like a spoiled brat when it's not shining on you. Instead of going psycho-competitive on our asses, you can give having fun like a normal person a try. That sort of thing." A beat later, and he adds, "Oh, and it'd probably help if you quit talking like you swallowed a freakin' dictionary. It makes people feel stupid."

Well, well. That was quite—she blinks, one, two, three as the information is absorbed. "Oh," she says after awhile. "I—I see. Well, thank you, I suppose, for, uh, that."

Her voice trails off and it's quiet, but Rachel has a feeling that he has no idea just how momentous this occasion is. All the great actresses and stars always underwent it, both in their roles and personal lives, so it's fitting that a future star should as well.

It's just that he really never expected Noah Puckerman, of all people, to be the one handing her her first chance at 'character development.'

"We're here." The car halts and as he kills the engine, she removes her seatbelt.

"Thank you again, for today," she tells him. "Your assistance was incredibly appreciated."

"What did I say about the big, long words? Seriously Berry, all the crap you say in one conversation could probably fit itself into seven short sentences if you translated it into normal-speak," he says with an eye-roll. "And I mean it, this time—no more rides. This is the last time I'm being nice to you."

She nods hastily. "Right. Of course. I'll see you at school, then."

"Whatever," he says off-handedly as he starts up the engine again. She's still standing on her lawn when he drives off, mind heavy with the words he'd just imparted. He'd ripped apart her character and more or less told her to stop trying so hard, and while it wounded (she is human, after all), maybe…maybe he was right.

It's almost laughable, the thought of taking advice from Noah Puckerman, the boy who slept with older women and had gotten his best friend's girlfriend pregnant. Still, she realizes, not without any irony, that he's the person she's talked to the most recently, one of the few she can consider a pseudo-friend, despite his efforts at declaring otherwise.

He had raised a valid point, she had to admit, and anyway, with her current standing---she recalls her earlier words and decides that it wouldn't hurt to try.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N: **Not much Puckleberry in this one, sorry. This chapter was hard to write, even after countless revisions I'm still somewhat frustrated at how I wrote Kurt. As always, read review and enjoy! Oh, and advance Happy New year, guys! :)

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**  
Chapter Four**

Perhaps there is some justice in the world after all. Academically, she's excelling, the number of derogatory comments on her Myspace page has dwindled into one, and her clothes have stopped becoming close acquaintances with different-flavored Slushies.

To add to it all, their latest rehearsal had been quite excellent—the more they practice, the more she's convinced that they really do have a shot at winning Regionals. And preparations for the party are going quite swimmingly—despite Noah's words of discouragement, she's confident that she can pull this off.

So it's with a hummed tune and a bright smile that she shuts her locker and makes her way to the choir room. There's no Glee rehearsal today, but before she heads home she wants to pick up some sheet music she'd previously left there. Her Dad isn't due to pick her up for at least fifteen minutes anyway—more than enough time to do it.

It's muffled by the door, but she can make out the sound of the piano and a voice coming from the choir room. The sounds become clearer as she gets nearer, and she's curious now. Curious turns into mild surprise when she peeks through the glass window in the door and sees Kurt by the piano, singing. And not just any song, either: Defying Gravity.

She stops and listens to him sing. Sometimes, she just doesn't understand Kurt Hummel. She'd thought they had an understanding, that they were even friends, until he'd stabbed her in the back with that make-over. Even before the Finn issue, it was as if he'd already made up his mind to hate her, something she can't, for the life of her, comprehend why.

Whatever it may be, there's no denying that he has a good voice—it suits him, and although he becomes occasionally sharp at times, it's the feeling in his voice that makes one really pause and listen. Why he chose this song again, Rachel doesn't know, but---

He hits the high F perfectly.

It's slow, building, but the proverbial light bulb clicks on in her head and it's only now she understands why her victory in the diva-off didn't feel that satisfying.

She's only half-aware of what she's doing when she opens the door and storms inside, cutting his performance short by fixing him with a hard gaze.

He's frowning and is it just her, or does he look somewhat upset? "Don't give me that look, Rachel, you're not the only one who's allowed to use---"

"You can hit the high F." Her tone is accusing, and it's strange but she suddenly feels angry. "I heard you."

He rolls his eyes and walks to the side of the piano. "What's your point, princess? The Defying Gravity Diva-off is old news—I blew it, you got the solo, end of story."

"But you _can do it_," she stresses. "You can hit the note and—you could hit it during the diva-off, I understand it now. You wanted that solo badly enough to practice until you perfected it. So why did you lose on purpose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His tone is decidedly unaffected, his expression bordering on haughty, but she doesn't buy it for a moment.

"You threw the note on purpose, I know you did. But why?" She walks closer to him and this is one of the times she hates not being adept at reading people---he's like a shut book.

"I didn't throw the note, and even if I did, what do you care anyway? You _won_—isn't that enough for you?" He brushes past her, and it might be the adrenaline talking but she manages to grasp his arm and turn him back to face her.

"You're a coward," she tells him simply. When he raises an eyebrow and gives her an almost indifferent look, she thinks she's never resented someone more for taking away her victory.

"What are you talking about?" His tone matches his indifferent gaze and _this is not how she pictured her afternoon to turn out._

"I thought you had enough faith in your own talent. But clearly, oh _clearly_, I was wrong!" Her voice is near hysterical now and all this anger is irrational but she's not feeling quite herself at the moment. "You knew there was a big chance I'd win, so you took the coward's way out and _stopped trying_---"

"Damn it, Rachel!" The sudden forcefulness, so out of place with his usual tone, startles her and when she looks at him, he looks more or less livid. "When are you going to wake up and realize that not everything is about you? Alright, yes, I threw the note. But not because I was afraid to lose. I did it for my _dad_—he doesn't deserve any more grief than he already has from the narrow-minded plebeians of this cow town because of who I am."

The aftermath is silent. They look at each other, neither averting their gazes, neither saying a word and it hits her then that she's been so, so _silly._ Wasn't this exactly what Noah had called her out on? Kurt's choice had nothing to do with her, and more than that, it hadn't been for himself. At this moment, it's herself that she hates for being so shallow.

"I'm sorry." It's soft but she hopes it sounds as sincere as she feels. Letting out a short, humorless laugh, she glances at the ceiling and shakes her head. "That's probably the only thing I seem to keep on saying these days."

"With good reason," he points out, tone and expression back to normal. "You have a lot to apologize for."

"Like you're so innocent yourself," she retorts, but without any real heat in her voice. The tension in the room isn't pleasant and why won't it just go away already? "Look--" Her phone beeps, signaling a message from her dad. He's already here and he's wondering where she is. "I, um, I have to go." And without waiting for a reply, she leaves, glad to be away from that uncomfortable encounter and at the same time, feeling horrible about, well, everything else.

* * *

She doesn't get why he's laughing at her.

"What is so funny?" she demands, giving Noah her best glare. "Why are you laughing so much?"

"Because the world's about to end and it's not even 2012 yet," he says between laughs. Of course, his own (weak, she has to say) attempt at witticism sends him into another fit of laughter.

Rachel rolls her eyes. And they say she's the one who doesn't make sense.

"That doesn't make things any clearer," she points out.

"Look," he says with a grin. "You're talking to me in the middle of a school hallway, and more importantly, you're asking me for _advice_. That's the kind of messed-up shit that tells me the apocalypse is coming."

"Ugh," she exclaims. "And here I thought you'd actually be able to help me."

"And what the _hell_ made you think that?"

"Well, I figured, since you already have enough experience in hurting people…" Rachel clamps her hand over her mouth, looking horrified. Could there be a worse time for her to be tactless? His expression darkens somewhat and she hastily says, "Sorry."

"Right," he replies with an eye-roll. Slamming his locker shut, he adds, "Look, I don't know how that crazy little brain of yours managed to think that I'd be any good, but there's no way I'm about to go all Buddha on you. You want advice, go find someone who doesn't have a best friend that wants to sucker-punch him."

"That's your fault, you know," she points out.

"Uh, you think I don't know that?"

She shakes her head. "No, I mean—ever since the big reveal you haven't done anything to mend your relationship with him. He's your best friend and you made a mistake—you should do something about it."

He shakes his head and gives her this strange sort of look at she can't interpret. "You're weird, you know that?" he tells her after a moment and she rolls her eyes in reply. The first warning bell rings and he says, "You think I should do something about it? Well, Berry, here's an idea: Why don't you try following your own advice for a change?"

And with a nod and a turn he leaves her standing in a hallway, once more surprised at how increasingly profound her encounters with Noah Puckerman are becoming.

* * *

It's almost fateful, how Mr. Schue brings up Defying Gravity as one of the possible contenders for their Regionals set list. He asks her again if she can handle it, but she just stands and says, "If I may, Mr. Schue. After extensive thinking and listening to recordings, I think it would be better if we made it into a duet, like in the Broadway production."

A sort of stunned silence follows and even Mr. Schue looks taken aback. "Uh, I guess that'd also work well, if the rest of you agree." When they murmur assent, he continues, "Alright, so---"

"I'd like to be paired with Kurt for this one, Mr. Schue," she interrupts and it's almost surprising that this isn't as hard as she thought it would be. "I think he's proven well enough that his vocal capability and projection is up to par with the song."

She's suddenly acutely aware of how her group mates are staring at her like she's grown another head or something. "But what about the high F?" Mr. Schue asks.

Rachel shrugs. "It's just one note."

They're all murmuring again and Mr. Schue looks confused for a moment before breaking out into a smile and clapping his hands. "Great! Good suggestion, Rachel. So Kurt, do you---"

"I don't want it." Kurt's voice is clear and firm and all Rachel can think about is, _what?_ "Singing it as a duet is fine, but I don't want the part."

She gapes at him, confused and scrambling to fix this because this is her chance to change her selfishness and she'll be damned if he doesn't let her have the opportunity to do it. "B-but it's a good song and you love it and you're more than capable of singing it! And I'm not just saying this out of pity or some misguided emotion---"

"This isn't about you," he says simply. "And it's not about me, either. I just don't want it."

He turns to give her a look, and _oh_—of course. It doesn't matter if she even gave up the song for him, his reason behind throwing the contest in the first place still stands. Not her, not him, but his dad—and that won't change.

Mr. Schue looks like he doesn't quite know what's come over his students, but it doesn't last long and they're back into the old dynamic. Rachel sits down and chances a glance at Kurt and when their eyes meet she hopes he sees the apology in them.

Sometimes, she really doesn't understand Kurt but she feels a new kind of respect for him. He gave the chance up because he loves his dad and that's something she can relate to. Perhaps they really are more alike than she previously thought.

* * *

"Where exactly are you planning to have this party of yours?"

She shuts her locker and faces a nonchalant Kurt. "The living room…why?" she asks slowly, wondering where this is going and why he's talking to her in the first place.

"Hell no," he shakes his head and follows when she starts walking. "Your living room is a teenager's worst nightmare—too many breakables and pictures of you plastered everywhere. I suggest my house—more spacious."

She blinks and says an '_okay'_ because honestly? She's still trying to wrap her mind around the situation to say anything but.

"Good." He looks satisfied and Rachel almost jumps when he loops an arm through hers. "And what have you thought about for food….?"

Before she knows it they're in a discussion about the party and not only does he offer suggestions, he puts it upon himself to help and co-host it, because _"you need someone with a better grip on reality to help prevent this from becoming a complete disaster."_

And as they're walking and talking there's an occasional flash of smiles and actual humor and this is the most relaxed she's felt in his presence. So they talk and plan and exchange comments without any real malice in them and she wonders why he's doing this in the first place but she doesn't question it out loud. Even she can recognize an olive branch when she sees one.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N:** Welcome, 2010! Once again, not much Puckleberry here, but I wanted to explore Rachel's relationship with some of the others first. I'm not too sure about how I wrote this, but oh well....stay tuned for the next chapter--the party's finally going to happen in chapter 6. Thanks to the lovely people who reviewed, and thanks in general for reading!

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Five**

"Trust me," Kurt tells her, clearly ignoring her horrified look as he lets the torn pieces of paper fall to the table's surface. "We don't need that list."

"B-but--" she sputters, alternating her gaze between the table and him. Deciding to change her tactic, she adds, "You're littering."

He ignores her. Around them, the chatter of people prevail as music floats across the air. Though she'd been to the mall many times, she hasn't been to this particular restaurant yet and she has to admit, Kurt has good taste.

"We may be in Glee club but we're also still in high school," he says and why does it feel as if he's lecturing her? "And that means we're easy to please—at least, most of us are." He rolls his eyes, clearly indicating that he isn't one of them.

"So you're suggesting we just, to borrow the phrase from Mercedes, 'wing it'?"

"Of course not." His expression seems to say, _are you insane?_ "There's the food and music, obviously. But it's really best if we just let the night unfold by itself."

Rachel sighs—with Kurt involved, she grudgingly admits that maybe Noah had a point. "But still, Kurt—not even one round of Pass the Message? I did an extensive research of party games and---"

He cuts her off, his eyes actually widening and honestly, he can be way too dramatic sometimes. "Unless Pass the Message is a euphemism for something rated above PG-13, I doubt any of them would want to participate. We're not six, Rachel."

She's getting frustrated now. First Noah, then Kurt—why does she always have people who make it seem like she doesn't know how to live? "I know that," she replies after taking a sip of her drink. "But it was the only game I could think of that actually utilizes verbal communication and that's the primary goal of this party: Opening the lines of communication in order to help alleviate the tension within the group."

This time, it's him who sighs and looks at her almost pityingly. "Let me lay this out for you: Although I'm involved now, it doesn't mean our teammates are any more excited about this party you pulled from your bottomless hat of crazy ideas. The moment you so much as _suggest_ any holding-hands-around-the-campfire-and-singing-Kumbayah-inspired activities, they'll hop out of my house faster than humping Energizer bunnies."

He pauses for a moment before murmuring thoughtfully, "Of course, if we got them _drunk_…" He trails off at Rachel's horrified expression. "I'm just joking."

She's not amused. "We're all underage and besides, alcohol isn't going to solve anything! If anything, once they get intoxicated enough, Finn and Puck will probably start fighting, which in turn will turn Quinn into a crying mess, and the two boys won't care because they'll probably be too busy throwing punches at each other. Again."

"Hence the word '_joke'_," he emphasizes. She's still troubled though, and it must've shown because in the next second he's giving her this long, searching look. "You really want Finn and Puck to reconcile, don't you?"

"_Yes_." Hasn't she made that clear enough already?

"But why though?" he asks, seemingly out of curiosity more than anything else. "I mean, now that Finn's free, I would've thought you'd be latching onto him and creating yet another high school couple cliché," he adds, and she can't miss the slight disdain in his voice.

It stings, his words, but she replies honestly anyway. "Because I feel responsible. I don't regret telling him, but that doesn't mean I feel any less guilty about it. And besides…" she pauses, "I don't want Finn. I mean, I do, but…not like this."

"Hmm," is all he says, somewhat thoughtfully, giving her a critical look. After awhile, he adds, "I suppose I can see what you mean. I have to admit, his charm has lessened somewhat now that he's gone from dopey-adorable to dopey-mopey."

Before she can say anything to that, Kurt whips out his cell phone to answer a call. "Mercedes," he says. "What? No, I'm at the mall with Rachel….yes, _that_ Rachel. Really? Perfect. We'll meet you there." Snapping his phone shut, he settles the bill and stands. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Mercedes and Tina are in the food court. They want us to meet them."

"But you said you were going to plan the party!" she protests, albeit weakly.

Kurt sighs, and why does everyone always seem to act long-suffering around her? "Rachel, it might have escaped your notice because you can talk like a chipmunk on crack, but you need to learn how to _breathe_. We're going shopping." And it's with that tone of finality that he practically drags her out.

_It's only shopping_. So why is her heart beating so fast? It's a strange sort of thrill as she realizes this is her first shopping trip with people her age and Rachel bites her lip, suddenly feeling unsure. Kurt is one thing, but will Tina and Mercedes even want her there? They haven't exactly been the best of friends in the past, although they'd warmed to her somewhat after Sectionals.

She has no time to analyze it, though, as they arrive outside the food court. "Finally!" Mercedes exclaims once they approach. "It's about time you two got here. We have an emergency on our hands."

"Elaborate," Kurt says.

"The Tina-Artie situation," Mercedes replies. "We need to fix it, and we need to find her an outfit for it."

"Ever since I told Artie about my fake stutter he was really upset," Tina explains. "Then all of a sudden he just came up to me and started acting like nothing happened."

"I'm sorry," Rachel cuts in as politely as possible. She's still not at all sure about this and while she hates the uncertainty she's feeling, she can't help but be curious. "It's just—how exactly is that a bad thing? Doesn't that just show that he forgives you?"

Three blank stares meet her.

It's Mercedes, surprisingly, who steps up to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You've got a lot to learn, girl," she informs Rachel with a shake of her head, but her tone isn't insulting, just matter-of-fact, and it makes Rachel relax a bit.

"One thing you have to understand, Rachel," Kurt tells her as they begin walking, "is that guys in general are idiots." He makes a disgusted sound, as though showing his distaste at being part of the male species. "They always need things spelled out for them, and more importantly, they don't know how to express their feelings. Which is why they either avoid or act like nothing happened. Such is the case with Tina—trust us, he's still mad at her."

They proceed to fill her in with the whole story, and it's a nice feeling, being a part of something like this. Digesting the information, she frowns. Turning to Tina, she says, "No offense, but it seems like he's being completely irrational about this whole thing. I mean, if he couldn't see past your stutter—or lack of thereof—he doesn't deserve you."

The three exchange looks and she's afraid she had been too blunt again when Tina smiles at her. "Thanks, Rachel. I really like him, though and I know he's mad but he'll come around—I hope." Not knowing what to reply to that she simply returns the smile.

It's when they enter the first store that she speaks again. "So, what exactly is the plan?"

A pause. "Well, we don't have one..yet," Mercedes admits before grinning at Tina. "But whatever it is, at least our girl's gonna look good doing it."

"Why not try talking with him in private during the party on Friday?" Rachel suggests. "After all, the gathering's main purpose is to mend---"

"Rachel," Kurt warns, effectively cutting her off. "I swear, you mention that party one more time today and I will find some way to throw out those sweaters of yours—not like that would be such a bad thing," he adds thoughtfully.

She simply rolls her eyes. The four of them glance at the countless racks of clothing before Mercedes says, "Let's do this."

And so the shopping begins.

* * *

It's funny, in a surprising way, how much fun she's having. They've gone to shop after shop, suggesting outfits not just for Tina, but for each other as well. Kurt strikes a dramatic pose in a pair of sunglasses and a fedora and she has to admit, it suits him.

They talk and laugh and try on clothes. They criticize her style and convince her to try a couple of things, which honestly don't look half-bad. Sometimes her choices don't synch with theirs, and she lets it known but she's careful of how she phrases it. A part of her still isn't sure if they want her here, interrupting their dynamic, but no one says anything about it and none of them even throw a proper insult her way. As the day wears on, she feels more and more relaxed in their presence and it's _nice_.

When the day is over, they succeed in agreeing and finding Tina the perfect outfit. And as for Rachel herself, he ends up buying a new cardigan and feeling a nice, warm sensation as she realizes she might be on her way to gaining friends.

* * *

He's early.

Rachel blinks once, twice, and when he doesn't disappear, the only logical conclusion is that he really is here in the choir room. Only it doesn't make that much sense—what is he doing here when Glee rehearsal hasn't even started yet?

He's plucking away at his guitar but stops when he finally notices her. "'Sup, Berry," he greets and she likes to think him actually greeting her is progress. Sort of.

"You know the world won't explode if you call me by my first name, Noah," she points out as she takes a seat beside him. She's wearing her new cardigan and she inspects it carefully before turning to him again. "Out of curiousity, what are you doing here so early? Glee doesn't start for another fifteen minutes."

"I was bored," he shrugs. "Decided to chill here, figure out some stuff on the guitar." She nods and since she can't seem to think of anything else to say at the moment, she turns back to inspecting her clothing.

"Is that new or something?" His voice cuts her reverie and she looks up. Rachel's sure that he's glancing at her cardigan (unless she's mistaken and he's actually staring at her breasts instead, but she'd rather not think about that.) She gives him a look, surprised that he even noticed.

"How did you---"

"You keep looking and checking it like it's a freakin' Tony or whatever that's called."

She rewards him with an eye roll. "I'm always careful with my things. But yes, this is new. I actually got this while I was shopping with Kurt, Tina, and Mercedes."

He stares at her. "You went shopping. With people your age, like a normal person. And they didn't kill you?" She rolls her eyes again at his dramatics but shakes her head anyway. He looks at her for another long moment before whistling and call her crazy but is that a miniscule hint of pride in his expression? "Huh. Well, what do you know, Berry? Guess there is hope for you after all."

It's off-hand, but is she squints she can make out the approval in his words and it makes her beam. Hope for her? Indeed, maybe there is.


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.:** Sorry for the later than usual update--school is swamping us with work. It's actually midterms week right now, but by some act of Divine Providence I actually found the time to write this in between all my studying. This was a particularly hard chapter to right, and the longest too, I think.

On another note...congratulations to Glee for winning at the Golden Globes! Also, I just found out that there is a Rachel/Puck reunion in the back nine. My Puckleberry-loving heart rejoices. Anyway, read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Six**

It's party time, and so far, so good.

(Sort of.)

While it isn't the smashing success Rachel hoped it would be, at least it isn't the crash-and-burn disaster Kurt had predicted. For one thing, they'd actually shown up (minus Quinn, but there's still plenty of time.) There is ample food and the music is loud. Artie had brought his Guitar Hero so now some of them are playing. Even Matt and Mike are making everyone laugh with their jokes (who knew they had such a wide array of them?), and this is probably the most relaxed everyone's been in awhile.

"Will you relax, Rachel?" Kurt mutters to her as he stops her from rearranging the food yet again. "You look more nervous than Tina, and she's about to pull Artie to one side and pour out her heart and soul onto him."

"Sorry," she replies. "But Quinn isn't here and Puck and Finn still aren't talking to each other."

"What do you suggest, we lock them up in a closet somewhere? It'll take more than seven minutes for those two to even start talking," he points out.

Giving a sound of exasperation, she leaves the buffet table and walks over to Noah. He's sitting on the couch, drink in hand and a scowl on his face. Rolling her eyes, she sits next to him and says, "This is your chance. Stop sulking and go talk to him."

"Sorry." He raises his glass. "Busy."

"Noah, _honestly_."

He turns to her, expression extremely irritated. "God, Berry, what do you want from me? To talk with Finn? For what, so he can punch me again? I tried talking to him, I apologized...nothing worked, so there's no reason for me to do it again."

"Well, try harder!" she insists. "You can't just give up on years of friendship over this. This was your mistake, and I understand that you're hurting as well but you need to fix this."

"Look, I've known Finn longer than you have, and right now, he's in his 'mope like a girl' phase. Give it time—he'll snap out of it."

"And what if he doesn't?" she challenges. "What if he stays mad at you and Quinn forever, what if this is the straw that breaks the camel's back for you two?"

Noah gives her a blank look. "Okay, how the hell did camels enter this conversation again?"

_Retract claws, Rachel. When you become a star, it won't look good if reporters dig into your past and find out you strangled someone out of sheer frustration. _"Why are you being so difficult? You're not joining anything, you're certainly not doing anything productive right now---you're just sitting here holding a drink that isn't even alcoholic so it can't even be considered 'cool' by the standards of today's shallow generation."

He smirks and she suddenly has a horrible suspicion about his current beverage but decides not to dwell on that. Instead, she says, softer this time, "Look, Noah—maybe it's true that Finn needs his space right now but you could at least do something instead of looking so mad all the time. At the very least, you need to show him that you're _trying_."

He ignores her.

Rachel stares at him for a long, long moment before declaring flatly, "You're hopeless." She stands up and walks over to Mercedes, deciding that she's never been more angry at Noah Puckerman than now.

* * *

It's getting late, and Rachel is getting worried.

Puck and Finn have barely glanced at each other, but she's now worried for an entirely different reason: Quinn isn't here yet. They've gone through a multitude of songs, 2 rounds of Truth or Dare, and many other activities, but the blonde hasn't made her presence known yet. And it's strange --or maybe this is simply out of guilt-- but she doesn't have a good feeling about this.

"She's not replying," Santana says with a shrug. "I tried calling her; it went straight to voicemail. Sorry."

Rachel gives the Cheerio a small smile. "Thanks anyway." The strange feeling is growing stronger by the minute. Quinn _needs_ to be here—she and Rachel have never been good friends, but this party is for her, too; an olive branch of some sort. She knows Quinn wants to do this by herself, and Rachel wants to make her see otherwise.

(After all, no one knows how hard it is to be alone better than her.)

Out of options, she takes a deep breath and approaches Finn. He smiles when he sees her, but the wattage drops slightly when he sees her expression. "You okay, Rachel?"

"Finn," she asks him quietly. "I'm sorry to have to ask but do you know where Quinn is?"

He looks uncomfortable at the mention of Quinn's name but shakes his head. At this, Rachel's brow furrows.

"But doesn't she live with you at the moment?"

"Yeah, but," he shrugs, the discomfort all too evident in his expression. "After everything…I mean, she's still staying with us, but we don't really talk, you know?"

"Oh." She takes a pause before adding, "But didn't you see her at home before you left for the party?"

"No. Actually, I haven't seen her since I left for school this morning." He frowns. "What's going on, Rachel?"

Rachel may not know Quinn very well, but she knows she wouldn't miss this—Glee is the only thing Quinn has left, the only place where she has friends and Rachel has a feeling that Quinn wouldn't just give that up. If she opens this topic with Finn, she knows that rift or not, he'll help because that's just the kind of guy he is.

But she's sixteen and she's human and selfish, and the part of her that doesn't want Finn to get more involved with Quinn again overpowers when she shakes her head and says, "Never mind. It's nothing. I hope you're having a great time."

It doesn't take long for the guilt to come back (and funny how it's becoming such a familiar feeling.) There's something very off with Quinn's absence, and while she isn't sure what it is or why she cares so much, she knows she doesn't like it. And besides, this party was to help mend ties, wasn't it? That certainly couldn't happen if one of the principal characters was conspicuously absent from the proceedings.

"We need to talk." She's not quite sure what she's doing but suddenly she's pulling Noah away from Mike and Matt and dragging him into the hallway, away from the people and music. He thankfully allows himself to be pulled away by her –or maybe he's simply too surprised to resist—she doesn't know, and frankly, she doesn't care.

"What the _hell_, Berry?" He snaps. "Unless you want to talk about you and me doing the horizontal mambo upstairs, I don't want to hear it."

"Will you stop being perverse for one second? We have a problem," she informs him.

"Again, what the hell? And second, '_we'_?"

"Oh, will you just---look, I will sum it up in one sentence: Quinn isn't here," she says simply, fixing him with a look until it fades away when she realizes that _oh for goodness sake, he doesn't understand_. Rolling her eyes at his raised eyebrow, she says, "Didn't you hear me the first time? I said, Quinn isn't here."

A beat, then---"So that's why you dragged me here? Because there was someone who actually decided to use their common sense and not come here? Look, Berry, sorry if your little party isn't going perfectly, but I already told you: This isn't gonna make people like you more, and more importantly, this is not my problem."

"She is the mother of your unborn child!" She all but screeches and it's decidedly unattractive but she can't believe someone could act so blasé about this. "Doesn't that count for _something_? I know you prance around the school like you don't have a heart, but I would've at least thought you'd show a little sensitivity for _this_!"

He actually looks offended at this. Good. "Berry, I'm a stud. I don't _prance_."

Oh. My. God.

She's almost firmly convinced now that he absolutely enjoys making her life difficult and that he really has the emotional capacity of a tin can when he adds, "Look, okay, maybe I'm a little curious. She is my baby-mama after all. But she already told me she doesn't want me to help her, and she won't like me poking into her business again. Besides, she probably just didn't feel like it or something." He lays a hand on her shoulder, and she bristles at how patronizing he's being.

"I'll sum it up for you in one sentence, Berry: Quinn is pregnant, and _you_ are blowing this whole thing way out of proportion."

"Noah," she insists, shrugging his hand away. "Brittany and Santana tried calling her and it went straight to voicemail. Finn didn't see her at home this afternoon. Like you said, she's pregnant, and that, coupled with her not being here, it a warning sign in itself."

"Why do you care so much?" he asks, obviously frustrated. "Why are you trying to fix everyone instead of grabbing Finn now that he's free game?"

"Because I've been selfish, horrible person, and I don't want to be that girl anymore." Even she's surprised by how honest she's being, and from the looks of it, so is he. "Let's just look for her. Just to make sure she and _your daughter_ are okay." It's a dirty trick, but it works anyway, seeing his scowl lessen at the mention of his unborn child.

This time, it's him who gives her a long, hard look, before digging through his jacket for his keys. "You owe me gas money for this," he grumbles as she grabs her coat and, not quite sure why she's being so quiet about this, walks out the front door with him in tow.

* * *

They find her by the bus stop. She's sitting on the bench, surrounded by her bags and this is all kinds of cliché but the reality of this whole situation is much too heavy for her to dwell deeper into how typical this whole scene is.

"Thank god," she hears Noah mutter and it helps a little bit to see that he's become worried too. They've probably gone halfway around Lima just looking for her, and now that she sees Quinn, Rachel knows that gut feeling of hers had been there for a reason.

Quinn takes one look at them and laughs. It's a broken sort of laugh that's born from something ironic instead of funny. "You two," she says, almost like she can't believe it. "You two--you're my rescue party. _Of course_." Her voice is dripping with irony and it would've hurt if Rachel couldn't tell that she had been crying.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Noah snaps. "It's freezing and that thing you're wearing can't even be called a jacket. Look, if you want to run away, at least do it properly."

"What are you doing here, Quinn?" Rachel asks, sitting beside her. "You should be with us, at the party."

The pregnant girl doesn't look at her. "Sorry. I was too busy packing."

"For what? Quinn, there's no reason for you to leave; your whole life is here, your friends are here," she stresses. "I thought I already made it clear that no one at Glee is going to judge you or turn you away."

"Yeah but it's not like they care that much either." She pauses, wiping a tear from her eye. "Apart from you two, no one even came after me." _Finn didn't come after_ _me_ is left unsaid but is all too clear anyway.

"If you bothered to check your cell phone you'd find voicemails and text messages from us," Rachel replies softly. "I know we've had our differences in the past but we do care."

"Why? It's not like I deserve it," the girl replies bitterly and Rachel suddenly feels indignant at how much Quinn's wallowing in self pity at the moment.

"You made a mistake, but so has everyone. That doesn't mean you should run. "

It's then that Quinn turns to her, a little fierce and more than a bit broken. "It doesn't matter. In the long run, it's better if I just…go. Mrs. Hudson's too nice to kick me out herself, even after finding out that she wasn't going to be a grandmother but…she doesn't deserve to be saddled with me. Neither does Finn, nor anyone."

"Well, tough luck princess because you're not getting rid of us." Noah's voice makes them both look up. He looks annoyed but at least he doesn't sound angry. "That's my kid you have in there, and I told you, I'm gonna be a good dad. Besides, where the hell else are you going to go anyway?"

"To my sister's. It's a chance, but…it's better than here." After a pause, she adds, some snark creeping into her tone, "And I already told you, I can't be with someone who texts dirty messages to half the school's female population just because he's sexually frustrated."

What? Dirty messages? Rachel's on the verge of asking him what Quinn is talking about when he gives his baby-mama an even-toned reply. "If you don't want me, fine; I never said anything about getting together. But I am sticking around for the kid."

It's a weird feeling that crawls around Rachel's stomach, not unpleasant, but just…weird. He looks so mature, resolute that all her previous anger at him is gone. _If only was like this towards Finn…._

"And what if I give her away? Even if the plan with Mrs. Schuester didn't work, there are still a lot of couples who want to adopt. I may already love her but that doesn't mean I can give her a good life," Quinn says, the end of her sentence breaking off into a whisper and do these two still realize that she's in the middle of them?

She sees him wince at the thought of adoption but all he says is, "Your call. But I'm still helping."

"So am I." Rachel doesn't even think about her words—she just says them outright. "I know you're determined to push everyone away but now is the most important time for you to have friends. If you leave now, then fine, but that doesn't change anything. Noah's still the father, Finn's still mad at everyone, and more importantly, there are still people here who want to help. You're going to hurt more people if you leave."

"Come on, Quinn," Rachel says with a smile. "Let's go to Kurt's."

"I can't," Quinn replies, brow furrowing. "Finn will be there, and he's going to know…and besides, I don't even have a place to stay anymore."

Noah opens his mouth but Rachel beats him to it. "Noah, I know what you're going to say and I don't mean to offend, but your house isn't exactly the most ideal. You have a younger sister, and your house is not that close to the hospital and besides, have you even told your mother yet?"

At his scowl, she rolls her eyes and says, all business-like, "I thought so. While it's nice to see that you're taking responsibility for your actions I think it would be best if you told your mom first before letting Quinn stay at your place. If you just spring this on her, it'll inevitably result in a massive amount of tension. I'm offering my house."

They both look up at her and give her equal expressions of shock.

Trying not to look put-off at their expressions, she continues, "It's relatively close to the hospital and we have a rather nice guest room. You won't be bothered there, Quinn—although I probably need your opinion on take-out first before we make any solid commitments."

That gets a laugh out of the blonde. "But…your dads…"

"Will be alright with it," Rachel assures her firmly. "I let it slip about your situation before and they told me that if you needed a place to stay, you'd be welcome at our house. Trust me," she adds. "They know a thing or two about overcoming difficulties."

Quinn's lower lip quivers, and in the next instant, she's crying—big, choking sobs that leave fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It's surprising when the blonde throws her arms around Rachel, but it doesn't take long for her to recover and return the hug. _"Thank you."_

When she pulls away and looks up, Noah's about to walk away. "Wait, Noah. Where are you going?" she asks, standing.

"If you two are done with your girly cry-fest, I'm gonna go start the car so we can get the hell out of here," he replies. "I'm freezing my ass off."

Rolling her eyes at his vulgarity, she helps him load Quinn's bags into his car. Once the three of them are buckled in, he starts the car and begins driving off to Rachel's house and she's secretly thankful; she thinks none of them are in the mood to party after this.

It's quiet all throughout, and soon Rachel can see Quinn fast asleep in the backseat. She looks out the window when the traffic light turns red, thinking hard about, well…everything, really.

"Hey, Berry."

She turns towards him with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, Noah?"

"Just…" he avoids looking at her for a split second, like he's struggling on what to say but finally, he gets it. "What you just did for Quinn? That was cool."

_Thank you._

(He doesn't say it outright but she knows it's exactly what he meant.)

She just gives him a small smile and looks out the window again. It's only when he finally pulls over in front of her house that she turns back to him and finally replies before getting out of the car.

"Noah? You're welcome."


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.: **Hey guys! As always, thanks for the lovely reviews I got for the last chapter. This time, I'm trying something different by using Puck's POV for this chapter. I just wanted to try it out, see if I'd be able to write his voice properly. This is still a Rachel-centric story, but depending on the response I get with this chapter, I might insert Puck's POV from time to time. I'm not entirely sure about this, so if this effort is an epic fail, then I apologize in advance. Oh, and reviews = sunshine and happiness and general love.

**Disclaimer: **(I really need to remember to put this in every chapter). Nope, still don't own Glee. If I did, what would I be doing writing fanfiction in the first place?

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Seven**

Puck knows he's totally breaking the rules of studism (he's almost pretty sure that's a real word. If not, then props to him for inventing it) right now, but _dude_—Matt and Mike starting/grinning at him all day is creeping him out, and he has no problem admitting it. So he corners them both after football practice and asks them something as politely as he possibly can.

"Rutherford. Chang. What the _fuck_ is the deal with the stalker vibes I'm getting from you two today?"

They keep those identical grins on their faces, and seriously, what is up with these two? "You'd better spit it out before I go all Fight Club on your asses," he snaps when they don't reply.

They don't even have the decency to look scared. Damn.

"You wouldn't do that," Mike says cheerfully, so cheerfully that Puck suddenly feels the urge to knock the cheerful right off his face.

"And why the hell not?"

"Because," Matt explains with a grin, and when did Rutherford find the guts to not even pretend to be threatened by him? He didn't really talk much—it always looked like a cat had gotten Matt's tongue or some weird saying like that. "Rachel wouldn't like it if you beat us up. She hates fighting."

And suddenly, Puck's reminded why he's actually thankful that Matt didn't say much. Dude could sprout some pretty messed up, crazy shit when he did. Like now.

"Rachel. As in Rachel _Berry_?" he says in disbelief. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Aren't you guys back together?" Matt asks with a raised eyebrow. "You two were pretty cozy during the party."

"Yeah," Mike chimes in. "Plus, you two totally went M.I.A for the rest of the night—and I really don't wanna think about what you were doing," he adds with a fake shudder. "Seriously, Puck. I thought you broke up with her a long time ago."

"You aren't messing with her again, are you?" Matt says, more seriously this time. "Rachel might be a little…high-strung but she doesn't deserve it if you are."

Puck knows he's supposed to be thankful that these two are still talking to him instead of throwing punches at him 'cuz he knocked up his best friend's girl, but he's really, _really_ finding it hard to be thankful right now. He's too busy trying to not to _barf_, because him and Berry? Way over. She might be hot and everything, but girl was _crazy_.

(And in case anyone asks, he dumped _her_, not the other way around. There's just no way he's gonna ever admit that he was dumped by a crazy midget.)

"Okay," he tells the grinning duo very, very plainly, his voice loud in the empty locker room. "First of all, don't use the word 'cozy'. Ever. Second, there's nothing up with me and Berry. She guilt tripped me into helping her look for Quinn during the party, and now my baby-mama's living at her house since she left Finn's. That's it. We done here, or do you also want to ask what brand my make-up is?"

"Actually that's not a bad idea," Mike says almost thoughtfully. "You should really change your concealer—they aren't covering your eyebags well."

Puck and Matt stare at him.

"Sister. Rope and a chair. A ton of make-up. My face." Mike shudders at the memory. "I now know more about make-up than I ever wanted to. Don't ask, dude."

Out of respect for the blow to Mike's manliness he doesn't laugh. Then the image of Chang with a face full of colored gunk enters his mind, and the plan gets shot to hell.

* * *

"Hey, Berry!"

He watches her turn around (okay, so maybe he's focusing more on how her skirt swishes when she does that) and walks until they're facing each other in the semi-crowded hallway. "Noah," she says, sounding surprised. "Was there something you needed? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this is one of the extremely rare times you've sought me out in public."

"Uh, yeah." He rubs the back of his neck and hopes he doesn't sound at all pathetic when he says, "Listen, after Glee, you need a ride home or something?"

Rachel stares at him. "Excuse me?" she says in a choked sort of voice.

"I was asking if you needed a ride home today," he repeats impatiently because is him offering really that surprising? "You've been asking for one so many times already. I figured I'd beat you to it so I don't have to hear you whining again."

Don't give him that look. He has motives.

After she recovers from her shock (she looks calm, which is annoying because other girls would probably be ripping their clothes off right now if they got an offer like this from him.) "Well, Noah, it's terribly kind of you to offer but I'm actually catching a ride with Quinn," she explains. "Since she has a car and we're now living together, it makes a whole lot more sense."

Damn.

Berry isn't good at reading people –hell, she can barely read herself—so it surprises him when she suddenly gets it. "Oh, of course. This is about Quinn, isn't it?" she suddenly says, and is it just him or does her smile look kind of sad? "You know, you can ask me about her if you want. You don't have to go with the pretense of driving me home just to get some answers."

Crap. She's practically offering him an out, but it actually makes him feel kinda bad. Like something twisted in his gut or something. Weird. But he takes it anyway and asks, "So, yeah…how's she doing? At your place, I mean."

"Surprisingly well," she replies as they start walking towards the choir room. "My fathers have welcomed her with open arms, and she's been nothing but nice—or at the very least, cordial. I think the ramifications of her actions have softened her somewhat. And she knows how to cook, and despite our objections she insists on doing something for us, so our eating of take-out has diminished considerably."

"Huh," is all he replies because it sounds like Quinn's doing okay and besides, he doesn't understand half the words she's saying right now.

"We've talked quite a lot, you know," she adds, her voice quieter now. "That first night when we brought her to my house, it all came spilling out of her. She told me a great deal of things—the pressure her parents put on her, how she thought she was losing Finn, how confused she was and still is about everything."

This time, he nods his head because _that_ conversation probably involved tears and he so does not do well with crying chicks. "But she's fine, right? I mean, does she need anything for the kid or---"

"Noah." She stops and puts a hand to his arm. "If she needs anything, I will tell you. Even if she says she doesn't want you to know."

He lets out a breath. Who thought Rachel-Queen-of-the-Complicated-Berry actually knew how to make things easier for him? "That'd be cool."

"Although," she says lightly, "It'd probably be better if you talked to her yourself. I understand that you're both on shaky ground but it wouldn't hurt to try. She doesn't bite, you know."

"That's what you think," he mutters and when she raises an eyebrow, he adds, "Nothing."

They're almost to the choir room when they hear voices coming from one of the empty classrooms. Familiar voices.

Finn and Quinn's.

"What are you doing?" Rachel hisses when he begins to watch them from the door's small window. "This is a direct invasion of their privacy."

"Shut up," he mutters and pulls her beside him so she can see too. She tries looking away, but when the conversation suddenly starts making sense, both of them listen and watch, not saying a word.

"Finn, please," Quinn is saying. "I was doing you a favor."

"How? By leaving a note to tell me you were leaving?" Finn replies angrily.

"I couldn't stay," she exclaims. "It isn't fair to you or your mom anymore."

"Well, yeah, but---why didn't you have the guts to tell me that yourself? Mom freaked when I showed her the note last week. Hell, I freaked when I couldn't find you." He's walking back and forth now, and he could be wrong, but this is probably the most mature Finn's been in awhile.

"Finn, I----"

"What if something had happened to you? To Drizzle?"

Puck rolls his eyes at Finn's stupid name for the kid, but he can feel Rachel stiffen beside him. He's about to continue listening when she pulls away and begins walking away.

Fuck, what's with her now? "Berry, wait up!" he calls as he follows her. When he catches up, she turns around to face him.

"Well," Rachel says brightly with a tight smile. "That was quite a scene, wasn't it? But still, it's wonderful, really, to see that Finn still cares for Quinn and her safety despite her mistakes. You'd think that he wouldn't care about her anymore because she wronged him severely, but he still does. It shows that—that he really is a good person. A—and you, Noah…you seem very concerned for her, and that's great as well. Quinn really is lucky to have the both of you."

The sudden cheerfulness in her voice freaks him out, because isn't the I'm-happy kind of cheer, but more like the I'm-about-ten-seconds-away-from-snapping-and-you'd-better-run-before-I-go-crazy-on-you kind.

"Berry, what----"

"You go ahead to Glee. I—I forgot something in my locker." She gives him another smile that might've fooled him if he hadn't seen her blinking so fast to stop her own tears (damn. Now even he sounds like a girl.) Rachel hurries away, leaving him standing in the hallway thinking, _what the hell just happened_?

_Quinn really is lucky to have the both of you._

It takes him awhile (he's awesome, not Super-Thinker) but he finally gets it. Berry's always been crazy, but this time it looks like she's finally about to snap into full-on psycho. With Glee and school and her trying not to have teammates who want to put a sock in her mouth, her plate's pretty full. And now…now she's letting the ex-girlfriend of the guy she's in love with –a guy who still cares about his ex—live in her house. Which wouldn't have happened at all if he, you know, didn't knock up Quinn in the first place.

(Seriously, Jerry Springer's got nothing on this damn mess.)

It hits him like a sucker punch to the gut that no matter how much she acts like she's permanently on Vitamin D, Rachel Berry is _not_ okay. And he might have a little something to do with that.

(The twisting in his gut gets worse and the word 'guilt' comes into his mind without warning.)

Well, shit. Leave it to Rachel Berry to stick him with a conscience that worked.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N: **I think I was slightly high when I wrote this. I churned this out in one sitting after days of no inspiration, so apologies if this seems rushed. As always, thank you to the lovely reviewers who, well, reviewed the last chapter. *hands cookies* Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing as well, and I hope you like it even if it might be a mess. Okay, I'm gonna stop now. Without any further ramblings, here is chapter eight.

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own anything.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Eight**

That night, Quinn's car is already in the garage when Rachel arrives home. She'd asked Kurt if he wanted to take her shopping after school, and the other teen had agreed with a rather alarming amount of enthusiasm. When she'd told Quinn that she'd be catching a ride with someone else today, the blond had merely replied with a dazed, "Okay", never once suspecting that Rachel was trying to avoid her.

But now that she is home, she can avoid her no longer. Rachel takes a deep breath as she enters the house and tries calming down. She might even be worrying over nothing—after all, what are the chances that Quinn would let her know about her interlude with Finn in the first place? They may be living together but they're not exactly at that stage in their sort-of friendship yet anyway.

When she arrives in her room without any hitches, Rachel takes another deep breath and sinks into her computer chair. This is absurd, she thinks—she shouldn't be tiptoeing around, this is her house, for goodness' sake! But the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach doesn't leave, nor does it go away when she tries distracting herself with homework.

She's in the middle of an English paper when a knock on her door is heard. She looks up just in time to see Quinn peak inside. "Quinn," Rachel greets with a smile, trying not to show that anything is wrong. "Hello. Come on in."

"Hey," she replies as she enters and sits on her bed. "Um, your dads called earlier. They said they were eating out tonight so I ordered take-out. Is that okay?"

If this were any other situation, Rachel might've already laughed at the thought of _Quinn Fabray_ asking her if something was _okay_. But she smiles at the pregnant girl and replies, "Of course."

Quinn doesn't reply to that and the seconds trick by silently. Finally deciding that she can't take much more of the tense silence, she asks, "Was there something you needed, Quinn?"

That seems to snap her out of her daze. "Uh, no, I just came to tell you about dinner," she hastily says. She stands up, smoothes out her dress and adds, "I'll call you when the food arrives."

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where Rachel is firmly convinced that apart from her inability to control her mouth, she is also a masochist. Because only a masochist would call Quinn before she can leave and say, "Quinn, are you alright? You seem troubled."

(She doesn't even know why she asked that. Alright, she admits that there is a part of her that's morbidly curious to know if Quinn will tell her, but now that she's asked the question, Rachel is now scared of what she might say.)

The blonde gives her a sad sort of smile (and Rachel notes that that is the only kind of smile the girl uses nowadays.) Hand on the doorknob, Quinn says, "You know, I never expected you to help me out this much. I've been…nothing but awful to you, and yet you're still nice to me. So let me return the favor and trust me when I say you're better off not knowing this time."

When she leaves and shuts the door behind her, Rachel sinks deeper into her chair, feeling strangely drained. A part of her is pleased that Quinn seems to have gotten over her feelings of animosity towards her—at least, by not telling, she spared Rachel's feelings from getting hurt. Because that's what would've happened had she told her. She could ignore it all she wanted, but there was just no denying the look on Finn's face, his tone of voice…the emotion he displayed.

"_You're better off not knowing this time…."_

The saddest thing about this whole mess is that Rachel already knows.

* * *

"Hey, Rachel, wait up!" She turns around and gives Finn a questioning glance. They're in the auditorium this time, and the club had just wrapped up rehearsal and now they are the only two people on stage.

"Yes, Finn?" She gives him a smile and hopes he doesn't notice anything amiss about her.

"Uh," He rubs the back of his neck and gives her a smile of his own. "Listen, do you maybe want to do something tomorrow night? Like a movie or something like that?"

Her heart drums against her chest. Could it be…..?

"A movie or something?" she parrots, tasting the words on her tongue. A night out. With Finn, the quarterback, the male lead with great potential. The boy of her dreams.

The boy who, she knows judging from that scene she witnessed yesterday, clearly still has feelings for Quinn Fabray.

(The words suddenly taste bitter in her mouth.)

"Yeah. It's just that, with the baby and Glee and everything you've always been there for me," he adds. "If it wasn't for you, I'd probably still be looking like an idiot right now. I just wanted to say thanks for all that. So are you free tomorrow? It's cool if you're not, I just wondered---"

"Is this a date?" Rachel finds herself asking and suddenly, it's really, really important for her to know. She wants him to say yes, oh god she wants him to say yes so badly, and at the same time, she's terrified. Because if he says yes, then it's really a date and that means she'll be going out with Finn tomorrow night, and it....just seems like a very big step.

"Uh, sure, you know, if you want." And then he's looking at her with an earnest expression that tugs at her heart and reminds her why she loves him in the first place. So before she can stop herself, she blurts out a "Yes, I'd love to," and for that one moment, she doesn't even consider the consequences of her reply. Seeing him smile genuinely again makes her feel her answer is worth it.

They make plans in a blur. It's with a, "Cool, so I'll see you tomorrow then" that Finn gives her another smile then leaves. It's only when she realizes that she is alone in this big room that it fully hits her.

She has a date tomorrow night. With Finn Hudson.

Oh my God. What has she done?

(She never knew until right now that it was possible to choke on your own triumph.)

After the scandal had broken, she'd fully intended on giving Finn space. He obviously needed time to think and be alone, and Rachel was not going to take advantage of his vulnerability to take him for herself.

_But you didn't. He approached you, he asked you out. He made the first move, all you did was reply. You did nothing wrong._

_Do you really think that?_

To be honest…no, she doesn't. Rachel used to think that she respected herself enough not to go start something with a guy who, though he didn't even realize it, was still hung-up over his ex. Apparently, she was wrong. She had been so excited at the prospect of _finally_ having Finn, of finally being with him after months of pining, that she never even stopped to consider her own feelings, and more importantly, her own pride and self-respect.

This is all too much too soon, and while Finn is clearly trying hard to get over everything, it's not enough. He's trying so hard to get over Quinn that he doesn't even realize that he still has feelings for the baby he thought was his, and more importantly, for Quinn. That he stills loves them. Loves _her_.

Quinn Fabray lied. She manipulated everyone, and hurt so many people. And still she remains the golden girl, the one everyone loves.

And as always, Rachel remains the second choice.

_Why can't anyone love me first, for once?_

No, she will not cry. For all her diva-fits and storm-outs, Rachel Berry does not cry. Crying shows weakness, and in a vicious industry like show business, weakness is one thing she cannot afford to show—it is, after all, like the smell of blood to hungry sharks. She will most certainly not---

The first tear slips out quietly. Within seconds, she's sobbing in the empty auditorium.

Here's a fun fact about her that the tabloids might be interested to know: She cries quietly. Sure, when a role requires her to, she can sob as dramatically as the best of them, but her real cry, the ones born out of real emotions, are actually a lot quieter.

But by no means do they hurt any less.

Her chest feels constricted and tears are blurring her vision. Sinking to the floor, she curls herself into a corner and just lets herself cry for…_everything_ really.

(It was never supposed to turn out like this. How did things get messed up so badly?)

The sudden sound of footsteps abruptly stops her from breaking into a whole new wave of tears. "Rachel?" She knows that voice, and sure enough, when she looks up she sees Mike crouched in front of her, Noah and Matt in tow. "Uh, are you okay?"

Hastily, she wipes her eyes and hopes to high heavens that the sudden burning in her cheeks doesn't show much. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't…I didn't realize anyone was here." She hurriedly stands and prepares to leave but Noah stops her.

"No way are we letting you off that easily," he tells her with something akin to exasperation. "Come on, Berry, what's with the crazy little cry-fest?"

"I---that's none of your business," she informs him, opting to use a haughty tone of voice. That's good, she decides—maybe if she lets it show that she really doesn't want any company right now, they'll leave her alone. "I simply felt like a good cry, that's all. Everyone cries at some point, Noah."

"Not you," he argues. ""You're like this ball of sunshine that's freakishly hyperactive all the time, so if you're crying and shit, then something must be up."

"What Puck means," Matt offers, throwing Noah a reproachful look. "Is that you must be really upset if you're crying this much. What's going on?"

Rachel doesn't know Matt and Mike that well, especially the former. But they're here, and they seem to be genuinely concerned (even Noah, although he's clearly not showing it) and for that alone, she suddenly feels less like evading them and more thankful.

"It's nothing," she assures them, plastering on a bright smile. "You don't have to worry, it's nothing I can't fix. True, I was upset earlier but I'm better now after letting it out. Thank you, though for your concern." Tilting her head, she adds, "What are you three still doing here anyway?"

"Mr. Schue asked us to bring some boxes over here," Matt replies. "We were just on our way out."

"Hey, I know!" The three of them turn to Mike, who suddenly has this big grin on his face. "Rachel, we're going to the diner near my house after this. Wanna come along? They have this wicked awesome chocolate milkshake that's bound to make you feel better."

Matt, after looking thoughtful for a second, adds in, "You know, that's not a bad idea. You should go with us, Rachel. It might take your mind off things."

"Thank you for the offer," Rachel tells them politely with a smile. "But I don't want to intrude, and---"

"Look, Berry, you might as well go with us." She's surprised to hear these words from Noah, and from the looks on the other two boys' faces, they are too. "These two are never gonna shut up until you do, and besides, anything's gotta be better than that weird cry-fest from Random Land."

"Once again, thank you," she replies, rather amused at how, despite his offer, he's still being sulky and child-like right now. "A milkshake sounds tempting but I don't drink dairy. It poses the risk of damaging my vocal chords---"

"You don't drink dairy," Noah cuts in, as though mulling it over. "Yeah, well, you don't _cry_ either, but you just did. I think you'll live if you do something you're not supposed to today."

And that's when she cracks her first smile, because she has to squint really hard and read between the lines, but in his own way, Rachel is almost certain that Noah really does want her there. As do the rest of them.

It's a nice feeling, being wanted for once, so she throws caution to the wind and gives her trio of unlikely rescuers a grin and says, "You know what? Let's go."

* * *

The chocolate milkshake the waitress places in front of her is huge. And loaded with goodness knows how many calories that'll no doubt go straight to her thighs. When she eyes it, Rachel can practically see _"Drink Me, I Want to Permanently Ruin Your Vocal Chords and All Your Chances of Getting on Broadway!"_ flashing in bright lights.

And the moment she takes her first sip, Rachel decides that she's never tasted anything so wonderful or delicious in her whole life.

"Told 'ya it was gonna work," Mike says with a grin, nudging Noah and Matt. "See, she's smiling already."

"I still don't get why we couldn't have just given her tequila shots," Noah grumbles. "At least a drunk Berry could've given us some laughs."

Three pairs of eyes turn to him incredulously.

"Dude," Mike says solemnly, patting Noah's shoulder sympathetically. "I know you're like, the master at getting laid and all, but you seriously do not know how to cheer a girl up."

"Oh yeah, like you do?" Noah replies with a snicker. "Hey Mike, is your skill at cheering up chicks the reason why Brittany and Santana went all lesbo on each other?"

(Rachel, engrossed in her delicious cup of heaven more commonly known as The Milkshake, pretends that she's not hearing any of this. Was this really what typical teenage boys talked about? Admittedly, it's slightly intriguing to hear how they interact, but for the most part, really, it's just disgusting.)

"That was one time!" Matt cuts in, as though jumping to his (on again, off again…Rachel's guessing off at the moment) lady love's defense. "Santana and Brittany swore it was a one-time thing. And anyway, inappropriate much? We've got a lady with us, you know."

Noah looks at Rachel like he's seeing her for the first time before he frowns. "Who, Berry? Nah. She's too short to be a lady. A kindergartener, maybe, but definitely not a lady."

It's strange but his jibe actually lessens the heaviness she feels in her chest. Maybe because he said it without a hint of his usual insulting tone, or maybe the teasing element in it was quite evident, she doesn't know and frankly, she doesn't care right now. In an odd, parallel-universe kind of way, these boys are making her feel better, and she's not about to question their methods.

Still, she gives Mike and Matt a sweet smile. "I'll apologize for Noah here," she tells them. "He hasn't taken his medication today, so he's being more of a jerk than usual."

"He takes medication?" Matt asks seriously, only the upturns in the corners of his mouth giving him away. "I wouldn't have guessed. He's this much of a douche most of the time." He and Mike high-five, Noah scowls, and she can't help but laugh.

When the food is gone (as is her milkshake, she notes rather mournfully), Mike invites her to come with them to his house. "We're playing Halo 3 on my Xbox," he explains.

She gives them a blank look. "Halo? Like the Beyonce song?"

Rachel instantly realizes it's the wrong thing to say, because all three boys recoil. "Berry," Noah more or less sputters indignantly. "You do _not_, under any circumstances, compare a badass game like Halo to a sappy song sung by an Amazonian black woman."

She can't help it; she laughs. Apparently, videogames are to these boys what her collector's edition DVDs of Funny Girl and My Fair Lady are to her. "Sorry," she says. "It was the first thing that came to mind."

"Yeah, well, just don't make that mistake again, and we'll be fine," Noah mutters, but his voice is loud enough for her to hear. Mike turns to her.

"So Rachel, you in?"

"Well…I don't know," she replies, thinking about it. "It'll be fascinating to see how the average teenage male reacts to the adrenaline that comes from playing videogames, but I have to admit, I don't know anything about gaming. At all."

They all look at her with something akin to horror. "You don't know anything about playing videogames…at _all_?" Matt repeats, looking at her like she'd just told him the world as they all knew it was coming to an end.

"That's correct," she admits. In the next instant, they're settling the bill and ushering her out of the diner and into Noah's car.

"You're lucky you've got the masters right here, Berry, 'cuz you've got a hell of lot to learn."

* * *

This is the gist of her first video-gaming experience with the most unlikely band of companions (the whole thing is just too long-winded to repeat in its entirety):

"Berry, you're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not just stand there like some idiot."

"I'm sorry but I cannot in good conscience do so. This game is full of violence and killing and all sorts of gruesome things that I can't condone. How you boys derive entertainment from this is beyond me, but I simply don't see the appeal, or the point, in all this violence."

A beat, and then---

"……you don't know how to work the controls, do you?"

"No, I do not."

The three boys let out identically heavy sighs and run by the instructions through her, _again_. By the end of the afternoon, the boys clobber her to death (clearly, they do not understand the concept of going easy on a first-time videogamer), but at least now she manages to shoot more or less properly and when they finally bid goodbye to Mike, Rachel decides that she's probably never had more fun in quite some time than she has now.

* * *

They're almost at her house when Rachel breaks the silence. Noah had dropped off Matt a long time ago, so now she's the only passenger remaining. It had been quiet on the way, but now she opens her mouth to speak.

"Noah." When she calls his name, he actually faces her and she's glad for that because she wants to be able to look into his eyes when she says this. "Thank you."

He actually looks perplexed. "What for? I didn't even pay for the damn milkshake and I totally killed you on Halo."

He obviously doesn't know, nor does he understand it, but he, as well as Mike and Matt, have helped her immensely today. By just asking her to come along, by inviting her and accepting her into their little group, they've done what Finn has never really been able to do: make her feel like she isn't a second choice. By being, well, himself, Noah Puckerman has actually managed to make her feel better. About herself, and about everything else.

The car pulls to a stop in front of her house and she removes her seatbelt. Realizing she never replied to his earlier question, she turns to him again.

Rachel smiles at him, because really, that's all she can do. "I know you don't understand it, but thank you anyway. For today and for everything." Without waiting for his reply, she collects her things and walks to her house, all traces of tears gone and even the slightest of springs in her step.

She'd had her suspicions, but now she can definitely confirm it: No matter what image he portrayed to the world, Noah Puckerman is not as bad as he seems.

(That night, she calls Finn and they talk for quite a long while. She tells him sorry, but it doesn't feel like the right time to go on an actual date yet, it's too soon, there are still things that need to be figured out, and all that jazz. He's confused, but he says _okay, maybe some other time_ anyway and when Rachel hangs up, it's the lightest and best she's felt ever since this whole mess began.)


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N: ***rips out hair in frustration* This chapter was crazy difficult to write. I honestly think this was more or less an epic fail—considering I'm writing under the influence of school-related stress-- so I'm apologizing in advance if it's bad.

Still, I'm gonna be shameless and ask you to please review anyway. It's my 18th birthday on Sunday, and reviews are very shiny, pretty presents that'll make me happy. Whether you loved this or have any suggestions to improve it—go ahead. Thank you for reading anyway, and a special shout-out to those who reviewed the last chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own anything.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Nine**

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

Rachel is surprised when Kurt practically drags her towards their table during lunchtime that Monday. He seems to pay no mind to the crowds of people around them, nor does he seem to notice the ceaseless chatter which lends itself to the overall noise surrounding them.

McKinley High's cafeteria is the epitome of the social hierarchy. There are the popular kids in the better tables, holding court without even trying. The rest of the invisibles are broken off into their own groups, and each clique has their own table. Glee club had been fortunate to claim a table that didn't look like it was going to break away any second, and shortly after their formation, they'd taken to seating together.

The balance had been rocked, of course, when the jocks and the cheerleaders had joined. And when Quinn had fallen pregnant and the baby-daddy scandal had broken, Quinn and Noah had begun to sit with them, neither really welcome in their old cliques anymore. Mike and Matt--and on rare occasions, even Brittany and Santana—came to sit with them once in awhile, but Finn avoided the table like a plague ever since the baby's true parentage had come to light.

(It's all very High School Musical, breaking the status quo and all, but Rachel figures that as long as it brings more people to their table, the clichéd cheesiness can be forgiven.)

Quinn had opted to stay home today because of a headache, and Noah is nowhere to be found, so it's only the original five present. It's a day like any other, until they begin the questioning.

Sadly, they decide to begin said questioning the moment she takes another bite of her meal, so when Kurt asks bluntly, "What's going on with you and Puck?" she chokes and has to gulp down a glass of water before recovering.

"Excuse me?" she asks, extremely surprised. "Why would you ask me that question?"

Thankfully, Artie (who reconciled with Tina during the party. At least, it had been good for _something_) seems to notice her surprise, because he says, somewhat carefully, "You see, Rachel, Puck came to us last Friday afternoon. He wanted to find out why you were crying in the auditorium after Glee." Pushing his glasses up, he continues, "I believe his exact words were, 'Yo gleeks, any of you have any idea why Berry was bawling her eyes out in the auditorium like some crazy chick yesterday?"

"And he actually accused me of having something to do with it," Kurt adds, obviously affronted. "He even told me that I'd better not do whatever I did again, because apparently, he can't handle another afternoon of crazy."

Rachel is silent while she absorbs this information. She runs it through her brain again and again, but it just doesn't seem logical. Why would Noah go out of his way to get some answers? He'd already helped make her feel better that afternoon, why did he bring it upon himself to find out as well? And telling Kurt to back off…what is up with that? To the untrained mind it might seem like he's concerned about her, but he's already made it quite clear that he doesn't care about anything, so why should she be any different?

(Perhaps she misjudged him and he really is concerned. Or perhaps he was doing it out of guilt over the Quinn situation. Whatever the realized, she's startled but can't deny the sudden warm feeling that spreads through her at her fellow Glee-clubbers' revelation.)

_"Oh."_

"Your vocabulary is extensive, but that's really all you can say? 'Oh'?" Kurt demands, then tilts his head inquisitively. "By the way, why were you crying in the auditorium anyway? You seemed fine after rehearsal ended."

"That's really none of your concern," Rachel tells him politely but firmly, and it's weird but she suddenly feels annoyed at him. They've been real friends for not very long and yet here he is, demanding answers about her private life as if he's entitled to know everything.

Kurt must've sensed her annoyance because he throws up his arms. "Alright, I was just curious. Sorry."

"Why would you assume that something's going on between us, based on that one encounter?"

Tina shrugs. "It was just weird, Puck asking us. That's all."

Mercedes leans forward and says, "But seriously, Rachel. What's the deal with you two? Honestly, you two have been sorta chummy-chummy lately."

Rachel blinks. She has no idea how they managed to see or know that.

"And another thing that we're trying to say, Rachel," Artie cuts in. "Is that do you really wanna get into that with Puck all over again? Last time didn't exactly end well."

"Yeah," Mercedes adds with a shake of her head. "Come on, think about it. The boy got his best friend's girl pregnant, and now he's about to be a daddy. That doesn't exactly scream 'Boyfriend of the Year'."

"We just don't want you to get hurt….again," Tina says with what's supposed to be an encouraging smile but only succeeds in agitating her further.

"Thank you for your concern," she tells them curtly as she stands and looks at them. "I'm glad, really, that you seem to regard me as a friend enough for you to be concerned over my well-being. But there is nothing going on between Noah and I, except maybe that we're friends, although he strenuously denies it. And forgive me for saying this but you all should be ashamed of yourselves. He is our team member and you're defaming his character by saying such derogatory remarks. Look, I know you're all on Finn's side and you think Noah's a horrible person, but if you took the time to think about it, you'd realize that he's hurting just as bad as the rest of them are."

She gives them what she hopes it one final, stern look before collecting her belongings and storming out of the cafeteria. Rachel is aware that people are staring as she walks out, and she thinks, _good_.

Someone has to show them how it's done.

* * *

She's the last one to arrive for rehearsal that Thursday, but she ignores their surprised looks and merely sits next to Mike. Mr. Schue looks up from the piano and, seeing that all his kids are here, walks to face them.

Kurt is giving her a questioning look but Rachel merely grins at him. Her heard is thumping with anticipation, full of hope that today, _today_ will be the turning point.

Today will be the day that it all changes for the better.

"Alright guys," Mr. Schue starts with a clap of his hands. "Look, I know we still need to work on our last number a little more but I was thinking that we do something different first to start us off. It never hurts to add more songs to our repertoire, right?" And with that he starts handing out sheet music of Switchfoot's _Dare You to Move_ to the rest of them and hands the sheet music for the two leads out as well.

To Finn and Noah.

"Mr. Schue, what---" Finn tries to say, eyebrows furrowed amidst the chatter that suddenly starts up. Noah, for his part, merely scowls.

"It's a good song, and I thought it'd be interesting to have you two sing it. Something different and all that," Mr. Schue explains with a smile. "And if it helps you….express any feelings you otherwise might have a hard time showing, then so much the better."

"Mr. Schue, I don't think I can do this with---"

"Got a problem, Hudson?" Noah snaps suddenly.

Finn glares at him. "With you? Yeah."

It's sad, Rachel thinks, that these are the first few words these two have exchanged in awhile.

She feels a pair of eyes on her, and when she turns in her seat, Noah's giving her a look that's part suspicion, part annoyance. In reply, Rachel draws on all her talent as an actress and gives him an innocent look.

Everyone's looking at Mr. Schue like he's gone insane, the two boys included. Only she keeps the encouraging smile on her face. Rachel's startled to feel a slight nudge on her shoulder and when she turns, Mike is giving her this look that seems a mash-up between awe and fear.

"I saw that grin," he whispers to her. "Did you, like, have something to do with this?"

When Rachel gives him a bright smile in reply, he lets out a low whistle. "Brave, dude," he tells her. "I don't know why you like setting yourself up for suicide missions, but it's pretty daring of you." He pauses, then gives her a grin of his own. "No offense, I think you're crazy for doing this and this singing thing is probably gonna be a disaster. One of them's probably gonna massacre the other but hey, if it's any consolation, I'll help you clean up the body after."

Her smile dims slightly and for the first time since she thought of it, doubts begin to form. It had been a stroke of genius when the idea had occurred to her, and she'd wasted no time in telling Mr. Schue about her suggestion. After everything that Noah's done for her, she wants to pay him back, and what better way to do so than to bring him and his best friend together again? Only now, with Mike's less-than-encouraging words, she's beginning to wonder if she did the right thing.

Still she squares her shoulders and looks ahead as a visibly reluctant Finn and Puck take center stage. _Oh well_, she supposes as the instrumental starts. Too late to back out now.

_"Welcome to the planet…welcome to existence…"_ Noah starts, avoiding looking at Finn. _"Everyone's here, everyone's here…"_

_"__Everybody's watching you now,"_ Finn begins, also pointedly not looking at Noah. _"Everybody waits for you now…What happens next? __What happens next?"_

"Come on guys, look at each other," Mr. Schue advises as the music gives way to the chorus.

_"I dare you to move...."_ they sing together, the rest of the club providing harmonies. Rachel feels that, considering they haven't killed each other yet, this is going well. When they actually turn to each other, albeit grudgingly, she thinks that this….this might actually work.

_I dare you to move, like today never happened….today never happened before…._

_"Welcome to the fallout,"_ Finn sings, his voice slightly hardened as he glares at Noah. "Welcome to resistance…the tension is here…the tension is here…"

_"Between who you are and who you could be,"_ Noah sings, his own eyes narrowed in response to Finn's glare. _"Between how it is and how it should be…"_

_Fixing your friendship—that's how it should be...._

(The more intense their glares become, the more Rachel becomes worried. They sound great, but what use is that if they both look like they'd rather be anywhere but here?)

"_I dare you to_—okay, Mr. Schue, I can't do this," Noah says, voice and expression rough with irritation. "This is stupid—how the hell am I supposed to sing about redemption and shit when Finn keeps looking at me like he wants to kill me?"

"Puck," Mr. Schue says as a warning to watch his language but before he can continue, Finn cuts in.

"Sorry, _dude_, can't help it," Finn says, and his voice is so uncharacteristically cold that Rachel's worry intensifies. "You lied to me and made me look like an idiot all this time."

"Finn--" Quinn starts from where she's sitting but they don't even hear her.

"Yeah well, you were stupid enough to believe it," Noah retorts and Rachel resists the urge to put her head in her hands. _What are you doing, Noah, you're supposed to be asking him to forgive you, not antagonizing him…_

"Guys, come on---" Mr. Schue says, but like Quinn, he's ignored.

"Dude, she was my _girlfriend_," Finn more or less hisses and Rachel sees Quinn wince at the past tense. "You're supposed to be my best friend, but you had to go and do this? You already have more than half the moms in Lima and the girls at school—did you really have to go after Quinn too?"

Noah's trying hard to control his temper, but as far as Rachel knows, the grip he has on it isn't that strong anyway, so she mirrors the anxious look Matt and Mike throw her way. "Like you're any different," he snaps. "You already had Quinn, yet you kept making goo-goo eyes at Rachel Berry. God!" he throws his arms up, letting the sheet music fall to the floor. "You know what, suddenly I'm not surprised why she came running to me. Probably wanted to be with someone who actually knows what he wants."

"Okay, that's it!" And with that, Finn launches himself at Noah. Rachel stands, her eyes wide with horror and her mouth slightly open as the two start hitting each other with alarming intensity.

This is _not_ supposed to happen.

Mr. Schue, Mike, and Matt manage to break the two up, but not before Noah splits Finn's lip and Finn manages to deliver a hard blow to Noah's cheek. They're both staggering and breathing hard and honestly, if looks could kill, they'd be dead by now.

"Enough, the both of you," Mr. Schue exclaims, looking angry and disappointed at the same time."You've got to learn to work this out—you guys are best friends, for crying out loud." Both look like they want to retort, but after seeing Mr. Schue's expression, they keep quiet.

"You two, get yourselves cleaned up. Everyone else, you're free to go. We might as well cut rehearsal short today," Mr. Schue adds with a sigh.

Rachel doesn't move; she feels frozen in the horror she's just witnessed. And watching as they stagger out of the room, first Noah, then Finn, she slowly begins to feel it: that unnamable, yet unpleasant feeling you get when you know your plan has just backfired brilliantly.

* * *

Finn, at the very least, still manages to be polite when he brushes her off (Look Rachel ,I'm sorry, but I just…._can't_ right now.) Then again, Rachel doubts he knows it was her behind all this in the first place, so she's not that surprised.

Noah, on the other hand, is a different story, and when she finds him in one of the empty hallways nursing his bruised cheek, he scowls and stands the moment he sees her.

"What the _fuck_, Berry?" he snaps, and the sheer anger in his voice is surprising. "Don't even try giving me that look—that singing thing had you written all over it."

"Why would you even---"

"Please," he cuts her off. "Who else is crazy enough to think that singing together was gonna fix everything?"

She winces at his tone of voice but stands her ground. "Alright, fine. I will admit that I suggested this to Mr. Schuester. But before you snap at me, I have to say---"

"Damn it, Berry, what was the deal here? I already told you to stay out of this," he exclaims. "I was doing fine on my own."

"Oh, really?" she challenges. "You were doing fine on your own with this situation between you and your best friend? Kindly elaborate please, because I just don't see it."

"At least my face wasn't rearranged before," he scowls.

"I was doing you a favor!" she exclaims, mad that he doesn't even understand the reason why she did this. "You've helped me immensely and I wanted to repay that. I know you want to fix things with Finn but you're doing nothing to make it happen. I was trying to help you!"

"Yeah, lot of good that did," he says sarcastically. "Thanks a lot—I've always wanted my face to be smashed in and because of you, I got what I wanted. Great way of paying me back, Berry."

"Ugh!" she lets out an expression of exasperation. "Will you just listen to me? I'm sorry if it didn't turn out quite the way I'd hoped, but this is your fault, too!"

"Uh, what?" he asks incredulously. "What the hell are you---"

"I gave you the opportunity to make amends and you just threw it away and instead chose to antagonize and anger Finn! You'll never win back his trust and friendship by doing that, Noah!"

He gives out a short bark of mirthless laughter. "Yeah, like you actually know any better? Please, Berry—if it wasn't for Glee you wouldn't have any friends because you know what? You scare people off."

"Noah---"

"And you know what you're problem is?" His voice is low with the kind of simmering anger that makes an impression more than shouting would've done. "You don't know how to let things go. I bet you're doing all this because you feel guilty or some shit like that." He tilts his head condescendingly, and Rachel almost shivers at the raw anger in his eyes.

"You know, I think I finally get why you're so guilty all the time. I mean, if Finn hadn't met you and if you hadn't latched on him like some pathetic groupie, none of us would be in this mess right now."

The sound of her hand connecting with his cheek is the only sound that echoes through the hallway in the next instant.

He lets out a yowl of pain, as she's hit him in the area where Finn had punched him, but honestly, she's too angry right now to care. "I know you don't believe me, but all I really wanted to do was help," she says, her voice sounding cold even to her own ears. "I was just trying to fix your friendship, which, considering how you've been acting right now, is a lot more than I can say for you."

And after giving him one last look, she turns on her heel and walks away with her anger and whatever dignity she has left, her shoes clicking in the suffocating silence.

(That night, the first song that plays when she puts her iPod on shuffle is _No Good Deed_ from Wicked. She doesn't miss the irony –or the appropriateness—of it one bit.)


	10. Chapter 10

**A..N: **Longest. Chapter. crazy-difficult chapter to write, and as a result, as usual, I have my doubts with it. Constructive criticism is welcome now more than ever. Oh, and this is another Puck-centric chapter. Hopefully it'll explain his actions more, and besides, my sadistic little heart just loves seeing him squirm with guilt. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own anything.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Ten**

You know that karma thing people were always talking about? Well, turns out it really _is_ a bitch—like, Santana Lopez level of bitchy. It's the Saturday after that little scene in the hallway where Berry bitch-slapped the hell out of him (not that he'd ever admit that), and the past two days? Aint been pretty in the least.

But before he gets into all that, here's the real deal here: All those things he said to Berry? Not true. Her being the reason for this whole mess? Yeah, now that was pretty messed-up logic, even for him. But he won't lie, he had been pissed at her. Like majorly angry. Did she really have to worm her way into every part of his life? They were sort-of friends (maybe) but that didn't give her the right to go ahead and do what she did. He was doing fine on his own; he didn't need her help. And anyway, how the hell did she even think that singing would fix everything? They aren't in a Disney movie, you know.

(That's a shit excuse and he knows it. He knows she was only trying to help him, and can list out excuses all he wants, but point is, he was out of line that Thursday. But if you tell anyone that he admits it, he'll pummel you.)

It takes him until today to realize the real reason why he'd been so mad at her: because apart from her inability to shut up and breathe like a human, Rachel Berry never stops demanding better from him. It isn't the first time someone's tried to push him to fix things, to be better. But this is the first time he's had someone try _so hard_ for him, and he's never really had that before. Plus, he hates to admit it but she's someone he might actually consider listening to, and fuck, it kinda freaks him out because Puck? So doesn't do listening.

He shouldn't feel guilty. He doesn't want to feel guilty. It's only Berry, after all. But he does feel guilty, and _that's_ where the problem is.

(He's never really felt that much of urge to be better before. With Quinn and the kid, he stepped up 'cuz it was the right thing to do, but apart from that, nothing. How did the midget with the knee socks and a voice that was annoying when it wasn't singing manage to change all that?)

Great, he thinks with a groan. He's beginning to sound like a girl again, so while he recovers some of the manliness he might've lost, he might as well go back to the whole karma thing:

He didn't get hit by a car or anything like that—apparently, the rules of karma (whatever the hell those are) didn't work the same way for him. _No_, apparently the universe _has_ been paying attention to how much of a fuck-up he's been lately, so now it's decided to heap a heaping plate of shit on him, and they choose the worst way to do it.

They hit him with a freaking _conscience_, so now he's been spending most of his time between feeling guilty over the stuff he said to Berry, and trying to ignore said guilt.

(Puck's beginning to think that getting hit by a car would've been easier.)

* * *

Here's the theory Puck's beginning to come up with about this conscience thing: It's slow and quiet, but it'll eat him alive before his next birthday if he doesn't do something about it. Today's Monday, four days after The Slap, and now he can safely say that either he really is going crazy or Rachel Berry is full-on psycho when she's mad.

Why? Because he keeps seeing her _everywhere_ today. After three days of her giving him the ice-cold silent treatment, suddenly she's popping up everywhere—in the hallways, in the classes he bothers to attend, even in the parking lot. And okay, maybe he's imagining some of it, but he's pretty sure he isn't imagining those weird looks she gives them when they accidentally make eye-contact.

When she's mad, like really seriously pissed off, she'll give whoever she's mad at the silent treatment for a few days then proceed to show up everywhere until the unfortunate sap who pissed her off cracks. He works her M.O. out by lunchtime, and it just makes his mood worse.

It's a simple equation, really. Guilt + Irritation because of guilt = People better run.

He's not stupid. He knows she wants him to apologize, and while he so doesn't do apology, if that's what it takes to get rid of these…._feelings_, then so be it. But apparently, karma isn't done playing around with him yet, so he doesn't see her anywhere for the rest of the day. He doesn't see her at all on Tuesday too, and by now he's convinced that someone up there must really hate him.

"Dude," Matt tells him after their last class. "You've been looking like hell since last week. What's up?"

"Nothing," he says with a scowl. "Just a thing with Berry, no big----"

Matt groans and replies, "I'm almost afraid to ask, but what did you do?"

He just shrugs and says, "Nothing, I just said some things to her after that singing with Finn thing and now she's mad at me."

"That's it?" Matt says, giving Puck this weird look that he doesn't get. "That's why you look like you haven't slept in days? Because Rachel's _mad_ at you?"

Puck doesn't like the sudden grin Matt gets on his face.

"Don't get go there, Rutherford," he warns, though he's not too sure what '_there'_ means. "Look, I told you, it's not a big deal."

"Oh, it is," he retorts simply. "If you look like that, then she must've really gotten to you. Look dude, just apologize to her already. The sooner you get it over with, the sooner everyone can get back to not living in fear for their lives."

Does everyone really think he doesn't know that yet?

"School's over; maybe you could try going to her house?" Matt suggests. Puck gives him a look.

"Why would I do that?" he asks, almost blankly. "Nah, I'll do it over the phone. If I actually go to her house, she'll think I'm…making an effort or something."

Matt shakes his head, and his expression clearly says, _'Am I really friends with this guy?'_. "Uh, you're supposed to make an effort since, oh, I don't know, you're the one who screwed up. Just go to her house and beg for her forgiveness already." He shrugs. "Hey, maybe a miracle will happen today and she'll actually forgive you instead of kicking you in the 'nads. You never know 'till you try."

* * *

Apart from sticking him with the worst possible punishment, karma also has the worst timing. He'd finally convinced himself to go to Rachel's house to apologize, but as he was walking to the parking lot, his mother had called.

"Noah, I'm going to be working late tonight and Mrs. Johnson can't take Gabby for the rest of the afternoon," she'd told him. "Can you please pick her up and stay with her today?"

His mom could pull out a major guilt-trip when she felt like it, and since he's already had enough of that, he agrees, cursing the world as he snaps his phone shut. When he meets a red light on the way to pick up his sister, he thinks that he might as well get this whole thing over with today. No point in dragging it out any longer.

So he fishes for his phone and scrolls until he finds Berry's number. To hell with what Matt said, he's just gonna call her. At least that way he won't seem so desperate. If Berry knew he'd been this bothered, she'd never let him forget it.

Besides, a phone call is better than nothing.

"_Hello, you've reached Rachel Berry. Unfortunately, I can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message after the beep!" _

Scowling, he waits for the beep before saying, "Hey, Berry...it's uh, me. Puck. Listen, I don't what the hell I'm doing right now, but, uh….anyway, about what I said after Glee. I was just pissed and Finn punching me didn't help and you were _there_ and…okay, that sounded weird. Look, I guess what I'm saying is that-----"

_Beep. Beep. _

Puck scowls again. _Absolutely fan_-fucking-_tastic._

* * *

He's used to watching his sister. Hell, he's been doing it since their dad walked out on them. Gabby isn't that bad, actually---you know, when she isn't awake.

Gabby's upstairs doing homework right now though, thank god. He, on the other hand, is bored out of his mind. He'd just finished off a sandwich when the doorbell rings. "Gabby, get the door!" he yells from the kitchen.

"I thought you wanted me to stay in my room!" his sister yells back from upstairs. Rolling his eyes, he washes his hands, walks back to the living room and opens the front door.

And stares.

And stares a little bit more.

Which, you know, isn't surprising, considering that Rachel Berry's standing on his doorstep with a tray of cookies with _'I'm Sorry'_ written all over them in blue icing.

"Wha---"

"Here," she pushes the tray towards him, her voice sounding normal—well, normal for her. "These are for you. To apologize for slapping you. No matter what the circumstances are, violence is abhorrent and I should've never responded like I did."

"Uh----" Three words, people: What. The. Hell?

"Although you very much deserved that slap and at the moment I'm not sure if wasting all these ingredients on someone who basically blamed me for all his troubles was the wisest thing to do, what with the recent economic meltdown and all," she adds conversationally, as if she's talking about the weather, and Puck's pretty sure he's opened his door to some weird alternate universe.

"But," she finishes, even giving him the smallest of smiles. "I've decided to be the bigger man—er, woman, and make the first move because while I don't how much value they hold for you,_ I_ tend to hold my friendships—however fragile they might be—with the greatest importance."

The smile gets bigger, and on top of confused, he suddenly feels, well, _bad_ is the only way to describe it (like he wasn't feeling worse enough already). Think about it: he was an ass to her and yet she's the one apologizing and making all this effort. It's uncomfortable, that weird feeling snaking through him and----

A light bulb turns on in his head, and suddenly, _he gets it_.

When she gives him an expectant smile, he's definitely sure that she'd done this cookie thing on purpose to worm an apology out of him. Huh. And he thought he was the master at making people feel bad.

"I received your message," she informs him. "Although it cut off before you finished. Is there something you wanted to add, Noah?"

He stares at her for one long moment. "You," he tells her with a shake of his head. "You are definitely something else, Berry."

She raises an eyebrow but before she can reply, a loud voice from inside suddenly shouts, _"Noah!"_

Crap. He'd know that little brat's voice anywhere—so much for making her stay in her room. Before he knows it, his sister's sneaked into the space beside him. "Noah, what—hey, who're you?" she adds when she sees Rachel.

"No one, now go inside and have a snack or something," he orders, hoping he sounds threatening enough. The last thing he needs right now is Gabby talking to Rachel. One hyperactive crazy, he might be able to handle, but two at the same time?

One of his worst nightmares.

"Hi!" his traitor little sister says with a bright smile. "My name's Gabriella, but everyone calls me Gabby."

Berry crouches down to her level and replies, "Gabriella? Like the High School Musical character?"

He tries to hide a snicker. Wrong thing to say, Berry.

Gabby's smile turns into a scowl. "Ugh. I hate it when people say that. Even though some of the songs are cool, High School Musical is still lame and the acting's bad." After awhile, she adds, wrinkling her nose in disgust, "Plus, the girl who plays Gabriella has naked pictures on the internet. I know—I saw Noah looking at them once. That's just gross."

Rachel's eyes widen and if Puck didn't feel like murdering his sister right now, he would've smirked. _There ya go, Berry---welcome to the realization that my little sister is not normal._

"I'm…sorry," Rachel finally replies as she stands upright, her tone a bit choked. "I'll call you…Gabby, was it? I'm Rachel. I'm in Glee with your brother."

"Hi again!" The bright smile returns on her face, and he's seriously beginning to wonder why his sister seems to have bipolar tendencies. Huh. Must've started when he accidentally dropped her when she was a baby.

"So," she says seriously, eyes looking straight at her. "Are you my brother's girlfriend? You're pretty." Before Berry can reply, Gabby turns and, seeing the tray in his hands, asks Rachel, "Did you make these?"

"Yes," Berry answers with a smile, and Puck suddenly wonders if she heard Gabby's other sentence. "I made them as a peace offering to your brother even though he was the one who committed the offence against me, but---anyway, go ahead and try one if you want."

"I'm not sure what you just said, but okay," Gabby says with a shrug. She takes one cookie and takes a bite.

And in the next instant, his little sister begins staring at Rachel like she's some freaking goddess or something. It's such a classic Puck move to be won over by food.

Shit.

"These are amazing! I don't know why you want to date my brother because he's a big idiot, but I like you," Gabby tells her simply. "You make great cookies and you seem nice. Not like Noah's old girlfriend Santana. She has a funny name and all she does is make loud noises in Noah's bedroom."

Rachel's eyes widen again and she hisses, "What kind of example are you setting for your sister?"

"Oh, don't worry 'bout that, Rachel," Gabby says with a grin. "Noah teaches me all sorts of things. Like, last week there was this boy in my class who kept pulling my hair. It's so kindergarten, right? Anyway, Noah taught me how to kick properly and which part to kick, so now Tim doesn't come near me. Serves him right for being an ass."

"Gabby," he says, looking at his sister. "What did I tell you about swearing?"

She considers that for a moment. "To not do it." After a beat, she adds, "in front of mom." Then she grins a grin that's so like his own and he actually feels proud.

Rachel looks like she wants to throw her head in her hands and it just makes him even smugger. Gabby pushes the door open wider and they all step inside the house. "So you're in Glee club too, right? Wait," she pauses, looking at Berry for a second. "Are you the lead? The one Noah says makes him want to light himself on fire?"

Berry raises an eyebrow at him and he smirks in reply.

He's not quite sure how it all happens but all of a sudden Gabby's talking a mile a minute and pulling on Rachel's arm. It's only when Gabby drags Berry upstairs to her room that it hits him that he's holding a tray of cookies that say, _"I'm Sorry"_ but really should've had the words, _"I'm about to mess with your head" _on them instead.

Shrugging, he sets the tray down in the kitchen and eats one of Berry's evil little instruments of mind-screwing. What? It does taste like heaven and hey, he figures it might as well be good for _something_.

* * *

He's not sure what time it is anymore, but it feels like ages when Berry finally comes downstairs. "She's just finishing something," she tells him as they sit on opposite sides of the couch. "Your sister's quite a handful."

"Little devil is what she is," he mutters. "She likes you, you know," he tells her. "One cookie, and it's like you're suddenly the Queen of Cool."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, I like her. Gabby's very bright, and very amusing. Although I don't quite approve of the values you've been teaching her." He doesn't reply, and just like that….hello, awkward silence.

"Look, Berry," he finally begins, running a hand through his 'hawk because seriously, he has no idea what he's doing right now. He'd been fine with the phone call, but now…."I didn't mean what I said, okay? I was just pissed—it just came out, you know?"

"Nevertheless," she replies, not even looking at him. "If it just happened to 'come out', then surely you've thought of it before? You've probably had that idea in your head for some time now."

"No," he says, frustrated. Seriously, is he really that hard to believe? "What I said was pretty messed up, even for me. You just…you're _weird_, you know that?"

"I've been told that a few times," she says with a wry smile. "You do realize you're not helping yourself right now," she points out.

"Yeah, so---"

"Look, Noah, all I'm waiting for is two words, and if you can't even extend the courtesy of saying it to me, then I'm obviously wasting my time here." She stands up. "Please tell your sister goodbye for me—she's a very sweet girl."

It happens fast—almost like a blur. Berry takes one step—and trips right over one of Gabby's toys that she hadn't seen before. He doesn't even think about it, he just stands up and catches her. It takes all of five seconds for him to realize the position they're in: his hands on her waist, her hand on his chest. For awhile they just look at each other in surprise, but that doesn't stop him from tracing the curve of her waist with his thumb (after all, he's Puck and he's never been one to miss an opportunity for a feel.)

"Look," he murmurs, and why the hell is he breathing faster again? "I'm sorry for what I said, okay?"

She considers that. "You actually said it, and more importantly, it sounded like you meant it," she says, and slowly she begins to smile. "Huh."

Her eyebrow furrows, and he wonders, _what now_? "What?"

"I was mistaken. You do have a heart. After all, I can feel the evidence." And he's suddenly very, very aware of her hand on his heart, and the room suddenly feels hot and crap—what the hell is happening to him?

She must've realized it too because she abruptly pulls away and just like that, their super-weird, super-cliché, and super-cheesy 'moment' is over. Berry's face is a little flushed and he's not quite sure why but he feels kinda pleased by that.

"So, what," he says, clearing his throat. "Am I forgiven now or something?"

She recovers quickly, though, and actually rolls her eyes. "Of course not. Just because I've accepted your apology, doesn't mean you're off the hook. Your words really hurt me, Noah, and it's going to take a lot more than two words to fix it. Although it's a start."

She puts herself right and smoothens out her skirt, just as Gabby comes downstairs to the living room. "Aw, are you leaving?" she asks with a pout. Instantly, she turns to him with a look. "What stupid thing did you do this time?"

Berry laughs and shakes her head. "Nothing, Gabby. On the contrary he did exactly what I hoped he would do. Actually," she gives him a glance. "If he'd said it sooner I would've left earlier, but apparently your brother likes making himself suffer. But it was very nice to meet you."

"You too!" she says enthusiastically, and Puck suddenly wants to strangle something because his sister and Berry being friends is a sure sign of the apocalypse. "You should come over again soon—then we can watch a movie or something."

"Absolutely," Rachel agrees. "Well, I should go. I'll see my way out." And giving them one last smile, she leaves their house. Gabby gives him a look before going back upstairs, muttering about 'not being a gentleman', and as for him? Well, he's left in the living room pretty much wondering what the hell just happened.

The silent treatment. Seeing her everywhere. Bringing cookies to make him feel even guiltier. That super-cheesy moment that made him feel all weird and stuff. It all fits.

_Dude_. Rachel Berry just mindfucked him….into apologizing to her.

He hates to admit it but that's pretty badass, and if he hadn't been too busy feeling annoyed, he'd feel kinda impressed.


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N. **Sorry for super late update; school = time eater. Last Friday was our last day of Finals, so now, it's goodbye First Year of college and hello, glorious Summer Break! Anyway, this is another one of those written-under-pressure chapters, so I hope you guys like this anyway despite the fact that it's a big mess. Thanks for everyone who reviewed the last chapter (I'm really sorry I can't reply one by one—I've barely have time to sleep these past few weeks, much less have time for non school-related stuff.)

Read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Eleven**

Rachel doesn't know who's more surprised to realize that she's been spending more time at the Puckerman's lately: her or Noah.

The reason, of course, is none other than Noah's adorable sister, Gabby. She'd somehow overhead him talking to Rachel on the phone one day and had snatched the phone away to ask if she wanted to come over. Rachel had accepted, and things had just snowballed from there—not that she minds though; she's always wanted a little sister.

"You're here again?" Noah groans, although not unkindly, when he walks inside his house one afternoon and sees them sitting in the living room. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were homeless, Berry."

"Hello to you too, Noah," she replies, her tone sugar-sweet as she gives him a grin. True, he'd apologized and she'd accepted, but he wasn't entirely home free yet—but he was getting there, and that, she thinks, is what matters most. "Most people say that when they first see someone, but then again, you're not exactly most people, are you?"

"Yeah, like you're one to talk," he grumbles. Nodding at the mess on the coffee table, he adds, "What crazy thing are you two midgets up to this time?"

"I'm doing homework and Rachel's helping me," Gabby says. "But you probably don't know what homework looks like, seeing as you never do any."

"There are other ways to pass a class, squirt."

"Underhanded ways, I'm sure," Gabby retorted, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

Noah groans again. "'Underhanded'? You've been spending way too much time with crazy chick over here—you're practically turning into a mini-Berry." He gives Rachel a direct look. "I blame you."

"If you're referring to the expansion of your sister's vocabulary, then you can put the blame on me," Rachel replies. "I'll gladly accept it."

Noah laughs. "Dude, that was like a messed-up version of an Akon song," he says as he disappears into the kitchen.

"Akon?" Rachel calls after him, confused.

"Look him up, Berry!" he merely says from the kitchen. She rolls her eyes.

Gabby's in the middle of explaining who Akon is (see, it's a teach-teach and therefore win-win situation) when Noah emerges a few moments later with a sandwich in hand. "I'll be in my room killing space aliens. Yell if there's a fire." And with that, he makes his way upstairs.

Gabby sighs and turns to Rachel. "I have no idea what you see in him."

(Rachel's made it clear that they are not in a relationship, but these little comments still slip past from Gabby from time to time. Tired of explaining, Rachel doesn't bother correcting or answering her this time around.)

* * *

She doesn't notice how late it is until the front door opens and a dark-haired woman enters the house. Her expression looks tired, but she smiles when Gabby runs and hugs her, exclaiming, "Mom!"

"Hi, sweetie," the older woman says, returning the hug. Mrs. Puckerman is a tall, slim lady with the same dark hair as Noah and Gabby. Rachel stands and smiles politely, waiting for Gabby to introduce her. This is the latest she's stayed at Noah's house, and this is most definitely the first time she's met his mother.

Straightening, Mrs. Puckerman takes notice of Rachel and asks Gabby, "And who is this?"

"I'm—"

"Mom." It's Noah's voice that makes them all turn to see him going down the stairs. "What are you doing home? I thought you were working late tonight."

"I managed to get off early. I don't spend nearly enough time with you two," his mom replies. Turning to Rachel, she says, "You were saying, dear?"

Rachel ignores the sudden wide-eyed look that Noah gives her and says, "I'm Rachel Berry. I'm in Glee with Noah and I help out Gabby with her homework sometimes."

Gabby, still holding on to her mom's arm, adds enthusiastically, "She's really cool, mom! Rachel's smart and she can sing really well."

"Speaking of which," Noah cuts in, giving her a look as he walks towards her. "Weren't you just leaving? Don't you have to upload a Myspace video or something?"

Raising an eyebrow at his look, which strangely seems pleading, she, confused, only says, "I can do that later tonight. Besides, what's one day without a new video?"

He's standing close enough to her now that he's able to mutter, "You are choosing the worst time to act like a normal person, Berry."

Rachel rolls her eyes. And he accuses her of being confusing.

Noah's mother smiles at her. "How wonderful, Rachel. You can call me Marie, it's—" She pauses suddenly, and then she's looking at Rachel so intensely for a moment that she becomes curious.

"I'm sorry, is that…a star of David necklace you're wearing?" Marie finally asks, giving Rachel a look.

"Oh, yes," Rachel replies with a smile. "I wear it as a symbol to show that I'm proud of being Jewish."

There's a pause for one teeny, tiny moment. And then, two things happen at once: Noah groans and mutters, "Shit," and Marie starts to smile widely, like she's just seen the fulfillment of her life's aspirations before her.

"_Jewish_," Marie says, almost like she's savoring the word. Recovering quickly, she glances from Rachel to Noah and back again before saying delightedly, "Oh. Well, it's wonderful to meet you, dear. Would you like to stay for dinner, Rachel?"

"Mom, you don't have to—" Noah hastily says, but Marie cuts her off.

"Nonsense, Noah. I bought food, and since we're about to eat and she's a guest—well, it'd be better if she just had dinner here."

"But—her dads—"

"I can call them to inform them that I'll be home late." Turning to Marie, she says with a bright smile, "I'd love to stay for dinner, as long as I'm not imposing."

"Oh, not at all," Marie assures her. Smiling warmly—and Rachel already knows that she likes this woman—Marie takes her by the arm and leads her to the dining room, saying, "So, tell me about yourself…."

The last thing Rachel sees before she disappears into the next room is Noah's extremely pronounced scowl.

* * *

"You," Noah tells her in an irritated tone as he drives her home later that evening—on orders from his mother--, "You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into."

"Excuse me? I don't get you," she says, frowning. "You were being so sullen during dinner. I don't understand why you seem so upset about me meeting your mother and sister. Your family is lovely—"

"They're also batshit crazy," he tells her flatly. Making a sharp right turn, he adds, "Don't get me wrong, I love them and all that crap, but sometimes they're just…like _you_."

A beat later, and he adds, "Huh. No wonder you get along."

She's pretty sure he just insulted his own family (and her), yet for some reason, it warms her heart all the same to hear him say that he loves them anyway. "You should consider yourself lucky. You have a mom who works really hard—"

"It's not like she's had much of a choice," he points out, "ever since dad walked out."

Although he's playing it cool, there's a distinct bitterness in his voice that tells her that this is a sore topic for him, so she lets it go and merely says, "Why exactly do you have a problem with your mom meeting me?"

"Because she was practically estimating your measurements for the wedding dress during dinner!" At her incredulous look (honestly, he can exaggerate so well) he adds, his tone actually grave, "I'm serious, Berry. There's nothing my mom wants more than for me to date a Jewish girl—a nice Jewish girl with good grades and talent. And guess what? She seems to think you fit the bill just right."

"But we're not in a relationship."

"And we told my mom that, but does she care? Nope. She takes one look at you and sees, 'Nice, pretty, Jewish future daughter-in-law.'"

Rachel can't help but laugh at that, but his previous adjectives finally register and she gives him a look. "You think I'm pretty?" she asks, honestly quite surprised.

He shrugs, but he doesn't look at her. "Wouldn't have hooked up with you in the first place if you weren't. And anyway—totally not the point, Berry."

It's a very classic Noah move, to bury compliments beneath insults and brush-offs, but strangely Rachel can't help but feel flattered anyway. There's silence for a brief moment before she says, somewhat unsure how to broach the topic, "Speaking of your mother, I'm guessing you haven't told her yet about Quinn?"

"I'm still living at home and she doesn't look like she's going to burst into tears when she sees me, right?" When Rachel nods, he says, "Then that's a no. Mom doesn't even know Quinn's pregnant—she's pretty behind on news like that."

"Noah," she says slowly. "I know it's not my place, but you have to tell her sometime. Secrets have a way of getting revealed—no matter how well you hide it, the truth will come out sooner or later. Would you rather someone else told her instead of you?"

"Dude, you cannot imagine the blow-up that's going to happen if I do that." It's a red light, and he runs his hand through his mohawk—an action that, Rachel notices he does when they're talking about topics he doesn't like. "Look, the first time I got called into the principal's office 'cuz I punched some douche's lights out, she cried the rest of the day and barely spoke to me. Do you have any idea what telling her that I got a chick pregnant is going to do to her?"

"Noah—"

"She's going to be torn in two, Berry. Mom doesn't show it but she's already fucked up over dad leaving. This is going to _kill_ her."

"And what if she finds out from someone else?" She challenges. She understands where he's coming from, really, but it's still not the right thing to do. "That's going to hurt her even more. If you tell her first, at least you'll get the chance to explain."

"Why do you want me to tell her so badly?" he groans.

Her response is simple. "Because it's the right thing to do. And more importantly, because, despite your actions, I know you're heart is in the right place when it comes to the people you love."

He scowls. "I don't know what the hell made you think that, but here's the thing, Berry: I'm not some sort of saint, and I'm definitely not a nice guy"

"I never said you were a saint," she retorts, irritated that he thinks so lowly of himself despite the bravado he shows. "I don't care how many times you try to dissuade me into believing it, but the fact still remains that you are a good person."

"Don't talk like you know me so well, Berry," he snaps. "You don't know a fucking thing."

"I do know we're more alike than you care to admit," she says, quietly this time. "That day at the bleachers…it was true, what I said. We both want everything too much. It's not a bad thing, but…sometimes I think we just need to let go. Especially when they weren't really ever ours to begin with."

"Yeah, well, why don't you apply that to yourself instead of psychoanalyzing me, since you seem to have that all figured out? Word of advice: don't try fixing someone when you can't even fix yourself."

She doesn't say anything to that, so they spend the rest of the drive in silence. When he finally pulls over in front of her house, the front lights shining brightly out of the corner of her eye, she doesn't move for awhile, taking in the tension in the car and wondering why it makes her feel like _this_.

He grabs her hand just before she makes a move to get out, and his hand is warm against her skin and she doesn't know why but she feels a thrill shoot through her spine. "Wait. Look, I didn't mean to snap at you, okay? I'm just pissed at everything."

"You always seem to be," she points out, but stays in her seat anyway.

"Yeah, well, this is different." He lets go of her hand and stares straight ahead. He's avoiding having to look at her, but there's a distinct edge in his voice that makes her turn to him. "Everything's just going to hell right now, and…I have no fucking clue what I'm supposed to do."

Rachel resists the urge to throw her arms around him and hug him. She's fully aware that he'd rather eat a canister full of nails than admit something like this—admit feelings—to other people, and the fact that he did just now shows a definite step towards personal growth.

So she compromises by laying a hand over his, and she's rather surprised how small her hand seems in comparison with his.

"Tell your mother and be there for Quinn. You can start from there."

He lets out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, except that Quinn basically told me to get lost."

"And you're just going to take that lying down?" She raises an eyebrow. "It's sweet that you're respecting her wishes but you're still that baby's father and you have rights. If you want to help her and the baby, you can."

"Look," she continues, straightening. "Quinn has an ultrasound appointment next Saturday. You could come with us if you want. Thank you for the drive home, and please tell your mother thank you for the food." When he doesn't say anything, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out.

She's about to walk up to her house when he calls out, "Hey, Berry!"

Pausing mid-step, she turns around "Yes?"

"Do yourself a favor: no more dinners at my house, okay? If you eat there again, she might bring out invitation samples."

* * *

(She has dinner there again twice during the next week. After her 4th meal there, Noah seems just about ready to murder someone.)

* * *

When Rachel Berry opens her front door next Saturday, she's a little surprised to find Noah Puckerman standing on the other side, hand in pocket and the same lazy grin on his face.

"'Sup, Berry," he greets.

You honestly can't blame her for staring. A week has passed since that initial conversation in his car, and apart from a few conversations while she was at his house, they haven't really talked much and he certainly hasn't ever come by her house.

"Hello, Noah," she says, not bothering to mask her pleasant surprise. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"Hey Rachel, who's—Puck?" Quinn's voice says from the stairs and they both turn to see her walking towards them. "What's he doing here?"

"It's your ultrasound appointment, and that's my kid. I'm going with you," he tells her flatly.

"You don't need to do that."

"I know," he shrugs. "But I want to."

"How did you even know?" Without waiting for an answer, Quinn gives Rachel an accusatory glance. "You told him, didn't you? Seriously, what, are you two friends now? That's…weird. No offense."

She brushes off the blonde's last few words. "I might have mentioned it," Rachel admits, not feeling the least bit guilty. "Come on, Quinn. Noah has his car—he can drive. Besides, you'll be late if you keep standing here arguing with us."

Quinn, looking very much like she wants to throw something at them both, says nothing but follows them to Noah's car. As he starts the car, Quinn, who's sitting beside Rachel in the backseat, whispers, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Give him a chance to prove himself, Quinn," Rachel says softly. "Give him a chance to be a father."

"But I'm not even sure if _I_ want to be a mom."

Rachel fully understands, so she just says, "Then at least give him a chance to help you. You're going to need more support, Quinn, and anyway, you managed to look past our differences and accept my invitation to help, right?"

"You didn't really give me much of a choice," she points out, but there's a small smile on her face, and really, who would've thought there'd come a day when Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray became friends?

"True," she says with a laugh. "But still, Quinn, think about it. If you managed to give me a chance to help, why not him?"

Quinn is silent throughout the rest of the ride, her hands resting on her belly. The clinic of Quinn's obstetrician, Dr. Camden, is a small but cozy establishment. It's surprisingly empty save for one other couple, considering it's Saturday afternoon.

They make the necessary arrangements but before Quinn steps inside the room she says, "Puck."

He turns and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She bites her lip, looking as though she really, really doesn't want to do this, but will do it anyway. "I was just…do you want to come in with me during the ultrasound? So you can see her?"

It's almost amazing, the sudden spark that comes into his eyes and Rachel's heart warms, happy that Quinn is giving him this opportunity. He tries to look impassive, but he shrugs and says, "Yeah. That'd be cool."

Quinn nods, then they both glance at Rachel. "I'll wait out here," she assures them. "Go on."

The moment the door shuts, she seats herself down on the nearest couch and smiles.

* * *

"The baby's fine, then?" Rachel asks once Noah exits the room, an odd expression on his face. When he doesn't say anything and instead just sinks beside her on the couch, she waves her hands in front of his face. "Noah!"

"Huh? Oh." He snaps out of it quickly, but the expression is still there. "Yeah. The kid's fine—the doc said a lot of stuff I didn't get, but I didn't hear the word 'mutant' while I was there, so everything's probably all good. They're just finishing up in there."

"Oh." Rachel nods. "And are _you_ alright?"

"Fine. Just a little freaked though." He blows out a breath and Rachel wonders why, ever since he apologized to her, he's been getting better at admitting things. "There's really a kid growing in there, _my_ kid and—I'm gonna be a dad at sixteen. That's insane." Slowly, she's beginning to decipher the ingredients that make up his odd expression—a little bit of happiness, mixed in with caution and a whole lot of fear.

"Have you talked with Quinn yet? About what you're going to do when—"

"Nah." He shakes her head. "I got her in this mess, so I'll go along with what she wants, but we haven't talked. I mean, I just saw the kid now. One step at a time, you know?" Rachel nods, and for a moment, it's quiet.

"Hey, Berry." When she doesn't reply—she's far too engrossed in her thoughts—this time it's him who snaps her out of it. "_Rachel_."

Him calling her by her given name startles her out of her reverie and it sounds so foreign, coming from him, but it's nice to hear. Strangely nice. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head but gives her a look all the same. "Just…you should really learn how to mind your own business, but thanks. For this. You know, even if I've been such a screw-up lately—"

"Will you stop demeaning yourself?" she demands with an eye roll. Softening her look though, she smiles and clasps his hand, wondering why she keeps doing this action lately. "But you're welcome, Noah."

He doesn't say anything to that, but he doesn't draw his hand away and neither does she, and they sit in companionable silence, and Rachel can't help but think that this feels nicer than she's comfortable with. It's an absurd thought—it's just a touch of hands, and with Noah Puckerman for crying out loud—but still, it can't be denied and that, in itself, worries her slightly.

It's still quiet, the only noise the faint hum of conversation from other people and the soft strains of music. And then they hear a familiar voice that shatters the silence completely.

"_Noah_? _Rachel_?"

Alarmed, the two of them suddenly stand, let go of each other's hand and look up to meet the somewhat surprised stare of Marie Puckerman as she stands by the clinic's entrance. She glances at them and at the plaque on the wall that clearly says, "Janine Camden, M.D., _Obstetrician_", then back again, her mouth slowly falling into the smallest of 'O's.

From where he's standing beside her, Rachel can hear Noah distinctly mutter, _"Oh shit."_


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N: **Okay, so….Gah. I edited this about four times and I'm still not completely in love with it. It's also a bit on the short side. Do point out what needs changing, because at the moment, my brain is fried. It's only March but the heat where I live is oppressive and is killing all the brain cells that weren't already dead from school. On a much happier note, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own anything.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Twelve**

Well. This is awkward.

Mrs. Puckerman's eyes have gotten really, really wide, and Rachel is uncomfortable under her gaze. "Mom," Noah says, struggling to keep his cool. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

That seems to snap Marie out of her daze. "Dr. Camden's an old friend of mine. I stopped by to say hello." Eyes still darting between the two of them, she asks, a sharper edge in her voice, "Although I should ask what you two are doing here. Is there something I should know, Noah and Rachel?"

"Marie, it's not what you think—" Rachel says, horrified at how this whole thing must seem. But she never gets to finish because suddenly Marie's wrapping both of them up in a hug, teary-eyed.

"You're both so _young_," she exclaims. "You have—had—your whole lives ahead of you, there was still so much time before you needed to have kids! I didn't even know you were dating!"

"Marie, I'm—not pregnant—" Rachel tries to say.

"Yeah, Berry isn't—"

Marie releases them both and turns to Noah first, giving him a reproachful look, although it almost seems like she's speaking to herself. "Oh, Noah. I thought I raised you right. Was this my fault? Because I didn't spend enough time with you? Where did I go wrong?"

"Mom, you didn't—"

"You're only sixteen, both of you," she continues, laying hands on Rachel's shoulders. "The most important thing on your minds should be finishing high school, not how to raise a baby! Oh, God…" She shuts her eyes for a brief moment, as if drawing from some inner reservoir of strength.

It takes awhile, but she recovers. "Well," Marie finally says in a much firmer voice, skillfully ignoring the equally horrified looks the two teens are sharing. "I suppose there's no use arguing about this now. What's important is that Rachel and the baby are healthy…speaking of which, dear, how far along are you?"

"I'm not—"

"Have you told your fathers yet?"

"Marie, you're not really listening to—I haven't told them anything because there is nothing to te—"

"Well," she huffs. "If you haven't yet then you both better tell them soon, in a proper setting where you can explain everything face to face. It would be better if they don't find out the way I did—it'll be less of a shock if you tell them yourselves."

Rachel knows her face must be a picture right now, and for some reason, the only picture she can think of is Edvard Munch's _'The Scream'_. At the moment, she's alternating between wishing that Quinn would come out already and wishing that she wouldn't. Either way, they were, in the words of Noah Puckerman himself,_ 'screwed.'_

"Also," Noah's mother continues. "You're both going to get married, of course."

Rachel chokes on air. Noah seems to be having the same reaction.

"What the _hell_?" he exclaims, clearly without thinking, and the second it's out of his mouth he winces at the withering glare his mother sends him. "Mom," he amends hastily, "You can't be serious, she's not even—"

"And we're not even da—" Rachel says, trying to help him out (and this would've been a funny situation, you know, if it wasn't so embarrassing and potentially scarring for life).

"Not now of course, you're much too young," Marie says in a tone of voice that clearly says that they're too young to be doing...other things as well. "But as soon as possible. I will not have my first grandchild living out of wedlock." As though suddenly realizing what she just said, she murmurs, "_Grandchild_. I'll be a grandmother…oh dear—"

And just when Rachel thinks this situation isn't going to get worse…the door opens and Quinn steps outside, saying, "Hey, Puck, the doctor needs some more information from you—um, what is going on?"

For a moment, there is only quiet. Everyone's eyes dart towards each other, assessing and sizing up the situation, and Rachel wonders if there's a chance Marie won't arrive at the right conclusion. Maybe she didn't hear what Quinn had said. Maybe she'll think Noah and Rachel were just accompanying Quinn because they were all friends or something. It's a hope Rachel clings to, because while she wholeheartedly believes that Noah should tell his mother, Marie shouldn't have to find out the truth like _this_.

"Hello, Mrs. Puckerman," Quinn greets awkwardly, offering the older woman a small, hesitant smile before discreetly giving Rachel a look that plainly says, _what is happening right now?_

"_Quinn_," Marie says, obviously surprised, and Rachel can practically see the gears turning in her head as Marie's eyes dart from Quinn's stomach to the equally guilty looks on Noah and Quinn's faces. "Well."

"Marie—" Rachel starts, attempting to do some damage control, but Marie holds a hand up to stop her.

"I'm sorry for earlier, Rachel," she apologized. Turning to Noah, she says, her voice wavering slightly, "You take these two home, and then it is straight home for you too, do you understand? It seems we have…a lot to talk about."

Turning to the receptionist, Marie says, "Please tell Dr. Camden that Marie Puckerman stopped by to say hello." And giving the three teenagers one last look, complete with glassy eyes and deep, calming breaths, she walks out of the clinic, leaving said three teenagers stunned in her wake.

"Well." Noah's the first one to speak, staring at the door like a man possessed. "I'm definitely screwed. Anyone want a milkshake and some fries before I take you two home? I figure I might as well eat something good, you know, since I'm not gonna live past this afternoon."

And really, there's not much Rachel can do except sigh.

* * *

He's avoiding her. That's the conclusion she comes up with that Monday when she sees him take the opposite direction whenever she's around. When he does it again on Tuesday, she's by now pretty sure that that's what he's really doing.

But to be honest, it doesn't bother her so much. She knows him well enough to know that the conversation with his mother must've been a difficult one, and he probably needs space to simmer. As long as he isn't back to shoving freshmen into lockers and Kurt into dumpsters, Rachel decides not to seek him out.

It's astounding really, how taking a step back makes her realize how much she's been wrapped up in his life lately. With his family, and the situation with Quinn—it's become a part of her life, although it's only now she realizes just how big a part that is. So while she decides not to seek him out so he can have his space, she's also doing it for her own sake.

Regionals are coming up, and it's a lot closer than she'd previously realized—in a little over a month, actually. There is still so much work to be done if they want to beat Vocal Adrenaline, and the numbers are not yet letter-perfect. Rachel needs to focus on that for awhile, focus on her goal of winning, and she knows it sounds horribly selfish but she needs to focus on herself for now.

* * *

_Tap, tap._

It's about nine-thirty in the evening, and Rachel is getting ready for bed. It is still Wednesday, after all, and therefore a school night, and she needs at the very least eight hours of sleep. Finished with her nighttime rituals, she's putting her schoolbag in order for the next day when she hears it again.

_Tap, tap._

The sound seems to be coming from her window, and frowning, Rachel abandons the earlier task and looks outside. Eyes widening, she hurriedly opens the window and sticks her head out.

"What are you doing here?" she says, hoping that her voice isn't loud enough to alert the other inhabitants of her house. "It is almost ten in the evening."

From where he's standing on the ground, Noah shrugs, letting the pebble he's holding fall from his grasp. She sees him stumble just a tiny bit, and she sighs. "Wait by the front door."

So much for _'not getting wrapped up in his life for awhile.' _She's slowly beginning to think that these little accidents of fate are out to get her.

Still in her pajamas, she walks as quietly as possible downstairs and opens the door. He's standing there, hands in his pockets, and, casting a searching look behind her, Rachel goes outside and shuts the door. She'd invite him inside, but it's late and her fathers might wake suddenly—and it goes without saying that they wouldn't take lightly to seeing a teenage boy in their house at this hour.

"You're drunk," she accuses him, sighing, and for some reason, she's suddenly disappointed in him.

"No I'm not," he defends himself. Rachel puts her hands on her hips and gives him a level stare. "Okay," he admits, throwing his arms up. "Maybe I had one or two beers. Just enough to give me a buzz. Chill, Berry."

"I will most definitely not 'chill'," she tells him primly. "You are underage, and you drove on the way here, and driving while drunk is extremely dangerous! Do you have any idea—"

"Concerned about me, Berry?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

She doesn't know why she suddenly feels like his words have some hidden meaning to them. And she's suddenly becoming very, very conscious about the fact that she's merely wearing her favorite pink pajamas in front of Noah Puckerman. Cursing the fact that her cheeks are growing warm, she says, "Of course. You're my friend, why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing," he shrugs again and sits on the porch steps. "It's just—I guess you're one of the few who actually gives a shit about me."

Suddenly feeling very, very tired (it feels like they've had this conversation before), Rachel asks, "Why are you here, Noah?"

He doesn't say anything, just shrugs, and she's beginning to despise that action now. Well, if he won't talk, then she might as well start. "So how are things?" Rachel asks as she sits beside him, the cold night air nipping at her skin. "I mean—"

"I told my mom. Not like I had any choice, after what happened," he interjects, looking straight ahead. He shakes his head. "That was one hell of a conversation—pretty sure I just broke her heart."

"Noah—"

"The last time I saw her that upset was when she woke up one morning and found dad gone," he says. "Not a pretty sight. It's Wednesday already, but I could still hear her crying in her room when I left."

Rachel frowns, but only asks, "So, what did she say?"

"Pretty much an extended version of what she told us at the clinic," he replies. "All sorts of stuff, like how I've ruined my future and how shocked she is that I stabbed my best friend in the back like that, yadayadayada. Like I said, not pretty." He blows out a breath before adding, "So now, I'm grounded till I die—"

"Then what are you doing here?" she asks him, even more disappointed and for goodness sake, why does she care so much? "Noah, you can't be testing your mother's limits like this."

"I just needed to get out," he says, voice gruff. "The house right now is…I just needed somewhere to _breathe_, you know? And a drink." When she doesn't say anything to that, he adds, "Oh, and get this: As if the whole thing isn't screwed up enough already, Mom wants Quinn over for dinner on Friday so we can all _'talk'_."

"Well," she says slowly. "Quinn's already asleep but I'll be sure to tell her. Look on the bright side, Noah: In a way, that's a good thing. Now that everything's out in the open, you can all focus on the welfare of Quinn and the baby."

"It's also going to be awkward, that's what it's going to be. I mean, shit Berry, the last time she saw Quinn, she was hanging off Finn's arm like an idiot. I think what she's most disappointed about is the fact that out of all the girls I could've knocked up, I had to choose my best friend's girl." He blows out a breath and stays silent.

"There's no point in dwelling on it any further," she tells him. "It won't change anything. But at least now, you can all move forward."

He doesn't reply and she doesn't say anything after that. Rachel takes the opportunity to look at him. His body language is so obviously tense, and he's got his trademark scowl, yet for some reason, there's that something about him that makes you want to take a second look. She never saw it while he was throwing slushies at her, but now…she definitely does.

Still, he's been uncharacteristically chatty tonight, and she wonders if it's the alcohol talking, or if he's just hiding behind it so he can vent. She also wonders what compelled him to come here, to _her_. The curiosity drives away whatever sleepiness she might feel, but she doesn't ask him. She doesn't say anything.

Whatever the reasons he might have, it's clear that he just wants somebody to listen, and while she's not a big fan of silence, she'll do him this one small favor. Right now, this inopportune late hour where she's supposed to be asleep, not sitting here with the resident bad boy of Lima….right now isn't a time for talking. So they just sit there, not saying a word, and watch the stars shine.


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N.: **Oh dear.I think I'm beginning to lose my spark for this, which is probably why this chapter (the 13th, how typical) is horrible. I suck at writing friendship-bonding scenes. Please bear with me while I get myself out of this funk. And I'm sorry I wasn't able to update earlier—a portion of the wall of a mall that's being constructed near the entrance of our subdivision collapsed and killed, not only five people, but our electricity as well.

Once again, on a happier note, much thanks and love to all those who reviewed the previous chapter! You guys are amazing, seriously.

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own this.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"I have a bad feeling about this."

(Rachel gives Quinn a smile and prays it doesn't show that she's thinking along the same lines.)

"You'll be fine," she assures Quinn from where she's sitting on the blonde's bed. It's Friday, and Quinn's getting ready to head over to dinner at the Puckerman's, and from what Rachel is seeing, she looks worried sick. "You've met Mrs. Puckerman before, so—"

"Yeah, but last time, I was Finn's 'lovely, sweet girlfriend'," the blonde points out as she clips a barrette into her hair. "Now I'm the pregnant, back-stabbing hussy who ruined her son's future."

Rachel says nothing, but grudgingly admits to herself that she has a point there.

"Just relax," Rachel says after awhile with a bright smile to match. "Admittedly, the situation's not ideal, but at least now you'll be able to focus on what's really important instead of being shrouded in secrecy."

"Speaking of being shrouded in secrecy," Quinn says, turning to Rachel. "You never told me what Puck was doing here Wednesday night." When Rachel's eyes widen (because really, how did she even know?), Quinn laughs. "I woke up and saw you from the window."

"Oh," is all Rachel can say, and damn it, why are her cheeks heating up? "He was inebriated, and for some reason, he ended up here. He just…wanted someone to talk to."

The other girl's expression is almost comical. "Puck knows how to talk? To a girl?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Yes, Quinn. While it might have escaped your attention, the father of your unborn child is, in fact, human. Although he doesn't show it very often."

Quinn laughs, and that dissipates some of the tension in the room. "It's kinda weird, though, that you guys are friends," she says, and it doesn't sound insulting in the least. "I mean, he used to throw slushies at you, and you had that one-week dating thing. And now you're friends. Trust me, I didn't see that one coming."

"Well, it was all a matter of circumstance, and don't change the subject," Rachel says. "Worrying about this will not help matters at all. Remain calm--remember, stress isn't good for the baby."

Quinn makes a show of breathing in and out before saying, "There. I'm calm. Happy?" Rachel opens her mouth to say something, but the sound of the doorbell makes her stop. Not without some hesitation, both girls go downstairs and meet Noah at the door.

"So you actually own jeans. I was beginning to think they you didn't know what they were," Noah says as a form of greeting when Rachel meets him first. With a leer, he adds, "Not that I was complaining about the skirts."

Rachel rolls her eyes, far too used by his comments to be truly affected by now. Still, she has to say it: "You're disgusting."

"Ready?" He says, turning to Quinn, smirk disappearing. Now, he's looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "As ready as I can be while knowing that this whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen. Let's just get this over with. See you later, Rachel."

The moment she shuts the door and they drive off, Rachel lets out a breath she doesn't even know she's been holding. It's only dinner, she reasons. They'll be fine.

* * *

It's eight-thirty, and things are most definitely not fine.

(Don't forget, she's kind of psychic. She knows these things.)

Rachel wishes there were a manual for this kind of situation. Then again, how would you even name this kind of situation, anyway? It would certainly be too long and too complicated to be a book title. And more importantly, why is she so nervous?

She's not the one who's pregnant. She's not Noah's significant other. She's nothing except a friend. But this little thing is affecting her way more than anything that had to do with Finn.

(She cares just a little too much. She just can't figure out _why_.)

It's a little close to nine-thirty when the now-familiar sound of Noah's car resounds in their driveway. Rachel breathes a sigh of relief and more or less sprints towards the door.

Rachel meets them outside; Noah's left the driver's seat to help Quinn get out, even as she's protesting that she doesn't need his help.

"So, how did it go?" she asks, trying to sound neutral. "It's—"

"It went great," Noah tells her flatly. "We talked about baby showers and unicorns and rainbows. Dinner was a blast."

"Ignore him," Quinn tells her, but even she has the same pained look that can be found on his face. "It was awkward on so many levels, but—"

"I'm outta here," Noah says, raising a hand in goodbye before going back to his car. He speeds off as Rachel and Quinn step inside the house.

Before Rachel can ask, Quinn holds out a hand to stop her. "Look, can we just…talk tomorrow or something? I'm really tired, and I just want to go to bed."

It's still early, and they both know it, but Rachel nods anyway. "Good night." Quinn just gives her a tight, little smile before slowly going upstairs.

Her fathers are both out of town for the weekend, and with Quinn not in the mood to talk, she has nothing to do, so she puts in her DVD of Rent and settles herself on the couch.

They'd just buried Angel when her cell phone rings. "Hello, Noah," she greets him, getting out the remote to pause the movie.

"Hey," he says, voice stiff through the phone. "How's the baby mama?"

"How sweet of you to be concerned."

"I'm just wondering if she's still sane," he replies. "Because I'm beginning to doubt that I still am. I'm calling you, aren't I?"

Rolling her eyes, Rachel replies, "Quinn's in her room. She said she was too tired to talk about dinner." Dropping her voice slightly, she adds, "What did happen, anyway? You both seemed…troubled."

"Think 'The Inquisition' and multiply that by a hundred," is his flat reply. "Mom asked about a million questions and rattled out a bunch of random facts about childbirth and babies that I'm surprised she even knows. She also said 'betray' and 'Finn' and 'disappointed' so many times that I lost count. She didn't yell, but the guilt trip she pulled was a hell of a lot worse. Said that she never dreamed of her only son and Quinn becoming a statistic for teenage parents. The only good thing about this is that Quinn isn't Jewish. Mom didn't say anything about getting married, thank God. "

Rachel winces. She's being given the Cliff-notes version, but she can only imagine how uncomfortable that whole night must've been. No wonder Quinn was tired. "Oh," is all she says, because really, what else can you say in a situation like this?

When he doesn't reply, she asks hesitantly, "How—how is Marie right now?"

"I'm pretty sure I just heard her crying in her room again," he says, the strain in his voice becoming more evident, and she can easily picture the scowl that's sure to be on his face. "I swear, this shit is really fucked up."

She ignores his language and says, "Well, since you're already at the bottom, there's nowhere you can go but up. I'm sure things are going to improve from here on out."

"Doubt it," he says shortly. "Look, I gotta go. Just wanted to check if the stress from meeting mom didn't cause Quinn to go into premature labor or something. Bye, Berry."

"_Rachel_. Come on, Noah, it's only two syllables. Say it with me. _Ra-chel_."

She can practically see his smirk. "Bye, _Berry_." The line goes dead, and with an eye roll, she sets her phone down on the coffee table and lets the movie play again.

Ten seconds later, she pauses it again and sits completely straight when she realizes that she's feeling warm. Like, a happy sort of warm. All after a call from Noah, her _friend_. A call that wasn't about her, but about Quinn.

Good Lord. What on earth is _happening_ to her?

* * *

She wakes up in the middle of the night and, after unsuccessfully trying to get back to sleep, she surrenders the battle. Yawning slightly, she leaves her room and goes downstairs for a glass of water. She stops short when she sees that the kitchen lights are already on, and Quinn's sitting in the island with a tub of ice cream in front of her.

"Ice cream at…one in the morning?" Rachel asks with a raised eyebrow as she heads to the fridge.

Quinn shrugs. "I am a slave to this baby. Baby demands ice cream, so I don't really have much of a choice." Rachel laughs, as she deposits the glass in the sink. She's about to tell Quinn goodnight (or good morning, depending on how you look at it) when she sees the slightly troubled look on the blonde's face.

So she sits beside Quinn and says, "Are you sure it's just the cravings that aren't letting you sleep? Because—"

Quinn shakes her head. "You know, Puck's right; you really should learn to mind your own business. But you're right. I can't stop thinking about dinner."

"Noah called and told me what happened." When Quinn raises her eyebrow, a knowing smirk curving her lips, Rachel only adds, "Don't give me that look, he was calling about you. Was it really that bad?"

"Well, between the guilt trips and the awkward silence, yes. But afterwards, Mrs. Puckerman was so nice, especially when she found out about my parents kicking me out," she says after what seems like a long while. "She didn't yell or anything. You could tell she was sad, but she never said it out loud--she just kept asking me if there was anything I needed. Which makes everything worse."

"How so?"

"I've lied to and hurt so many people," she replies. "And still everyone's being too nice to me. I'm grateful, but it feels uncomfortable, sometimes. Like I don't deserve any of it."

She's not quite sure what to say to that, but after awhile, she finds the words. "You made a mistake, just like everyone's done at some point in their lives. I should know," she adds, looking down at her feet. "People would be hypocrites, not to mention horrible, if they shunned you for making a wrong move."

"But it's not that simple."

"True," Rachel agrees slowly. "But that doesn't mean it has to be different. It'll be harder for some to accept, but if they really care, they'll come around."

"Somehow, I'm beginning to doubt that'll ever happen with Finn," the blonde says, sighing before taking another spoonful of ice cream. "Can't say I blame him, though."

Rachel doesn't say anything immediately, and perhaps it's the way Quinn suddenly gives her a quick glance, but she knows that the other girl realizes it too. Ever since Quinn had come to live here and they had become friends, they'd talked about a variety of topics. But never about Finn. Finn Hudson is a cloud that hangs above both of them, a break in the thread that if pulled, could sever an already fragile friendship. It's like an unspoken rule not to talk about him.

Then again, maybe if they never talk about what's right in front of them, they'll remain teetering on that edge for goodness knows how long, and if there's one thing Rachel Berry dislikes in friendships, its uncertainty.

"He will," she tells Quinn. "Not right now, but someday, he will forgive you, because...that's just the kind of guy he is." _Because I think he still loves you._

(She's supremely startled to realize that it doesn't sting as much to admit that obvious fact to herself.)

Quinn turns around in her seat so she can fully face Rachel. "This is pretty messed up, huh? I mean, you and Finn and me and Puck…"

Rachel nods, smiling a little because really, she knows just how tangled this little web she's found herself a part of really is. "I know."

Quinn gives her a scrutinizing look, and there's a glimpse of her former, fiercer self there. "Why are you doing this--being nice to me instead of going after Finn? I wouldn't have stopped you, you know. God knows I don't deserve him right now."

"I don't want to be that girl," Rachel says. "The girl who latches onto a guy immediately after being part of the cause of his break-up in the first place. I'm not going to lie, Quinn: I like him. But he's still confused and mixed up and conflicted over his feelings for you and I just—I won't be his rebound girl. If we do get together, I want to know that it's because he likes me for me, not because he wants someone to fall back on."

Quinn doesn't say anything to that, but judging from the softening of her expression, Rachel knows she understands what she was trying to say. The look in the blonde's eyes is clear. _Thank you anyway._

In a weird way, it feels like a defining moment in their friendship. They don't hug, or burst into tears and sing songs about everlasting friendship—because this isn't a bad 80's sitcom and it's just not their style. But Quinn does jump off her seat, and within seconds, she's holding out a spoon to Rachel.

"Ice cream? I don't mind sharing."

It's well past one in the morning and Rachel knows she's not supposed to have dairy. But she smiles, accepts the utensil and takes a spoonful of ice cream, and within seconds the only sounds that can be heard throughout the Berry household is the scraping of spoons and the occasional chatter and laughter from two girls who never once thought that they'd become real friends.


	14. Chapter 14

**A.N: **The long wait is almost over, you guys! Just a few more days, and Glee is coming back! I haven't felt this excited since I learned that Puck and Rachel are reuniting for an episode in the back nine.

Some of the dialogue and situations may seem familiar, and that's because I'm basing some parts of it from the promos that are already out. Regionals are a month away after all; time to bring in some competition (and I'm not just talking about show choir.) And as always, thank you to the lovely people who reviewed the last chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own anything.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Fourteen**

At the moment, Rachel can't even begin to feel bothered about the whole Quinn/Noah/everything else situation. They have a bigger problem on their hands.

Vocal Adrenaline has extended an invitation to another Invitational. This Saturday.

They might as well have issued a note to New Directions with a picture of Casper's less-than-friendly counterparts, with the word: "_boo"_.

"Mr. Schue, do we really have to go?" Mercedes calls out that Thursday, right after he announces the news. "They sent us that invite so we'd watch them and see how 'good' they are."

"I have to agree," Artie adds. "They're trying to scare us. If we went, we'd be playing right into their hands."

"But if we didn't go, then it would show that we aren't brave enough to face them," Rachel argues. "Regionals are a month away, we have to at least know what we're competing against."

"I'm with Rachel on this one," Mr. Schue says. "This is the big leagues, guys. We're going against the evil empire of the show choir world: Vocal Adrenaline. I know you've already seen them perform, but I can guarantee that they've been stepping it up since then. We need to show them we're not afraid of them."

It takes awhile for them to come to a general consensus, but after awhile, they settle it: They're going. They spend the rest of the meeting discussing transportation plans (Kurt, Santana, and Noah will take their cars. Quinn would've offered hers, but at the moment it's in the shop), and Mr. Schue adds that Miss Pillsbury is going to chaperone along with him.

(Rachel sighs, because Mr. Schue has that happy-dazed look on his face, the kind he seems to be getting lately whenever he talks about the guidance counselor. It just goes to show how messed-up her love life is when her teacher's relationship problems work out faster than her own.)

* * *

It pains her to say it, but here it is: Vocal Adrenaline has gotten, if possible, even better than last time.

They perform AC/DC's Highway to Hell, and it's an explosive performance—quite literally. It's all flash and fire and energy and their voices and routines are phenomenal. They've got the crowd pumped and on their feet, and they aren't even halfway through the first act when the cheers become overwhelming.

New Directions does nothing but watch, occasionally whispering to one another or giving each other looks. During intermission, Kurt, who's sitting next to Rachel, says, "This whole thing is nauseating in an I-totally-hate-them-for-being-amazing kind of way."

"I know," she replies with a little sigh. "Mr. Schue wasn't kidding when he said they've stepped it up since the last time we saw them."

"Can I say 'we're screwed' now?" Noah, who (much to his annoyance; he keeps looking like he wants to throttle Mike and Matt) ends up sitting on Rachel's opposite side, leans in and mutters, "Jeez, Berry, and I thought _you_ were insane. Next to these guys, you look like a sleeping puppy."

She rolls her eyes and accidentally-on-purpose elbows his arm a little too hard. When he glares at her, she puts on her best, innocent smile and says, "Oops. Sorry."

She can feel eyes on her and turns to see Kurt giving her a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"I didn't know you and Puck were getting cozy again," he says with a grin.

"I heard that, Hummel," Noah says, and apparently, so did the rest of the Glee club, because they're all suddenly staring at them with varying expressions—most of them curious, and Finn suspicious. She decides to ignore everyone and instead settles more comfortably in her seat.

Let this be a lesson to future reporters: When it comes to Rachel Berry, silence does not mean _yes_, it means _no comment. _

The second act stars in a matter of minutes and as expected, it's even better and more dynamic than the first. The crowd practically goes insane. Rachel, for her part, is dissecting their every move—every turn, every harmony, even their costumes. She takes note of the little mistakes—because shocking as it may sound, their routines, though great, are not perfect—and files it away for future reference, and makes a mental list of their strengths and weaknesses so they'll all know what to work on in order to beat them.

As Sun Tzu said, _know your enemy._

When it's over, they join the crowd in the standing ovation (partly because their gracious, and partly because they really just want to get out of here.) The number of people is rather outstanding, though, so by the time their group manages to get out of the auditorium, the place is more or less empty.

They'd just reached the lobby when Rachel realizes something. "Wait," she calls out, and when they all stop and turn to her, she explains with a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry. I can't find my purse."

"Do you know where you last saw it?" Quinn asks.

"I think I might have left it back in my seat, I'm not sure. I barely even noticed it during the performance. I'll be right back—Kurt," she says, turning to the boy whom she had ridden with on the way here. "Would it be alright if you waited for a minute or two while I looked?"

Kurt nods, although it doesn't look like he's in love with the idea. "Fine. If we stay longer, the more killer the traffic's going to get, though, so we have to be quick. I still have to meet my dad back in the shop, and the rest of them need to get home pronto."

"Is it okay if we go ahead, though?" Quinn asks, glancing at Brittany and Santana, whom she had gotten a ride with. "I really want to lie down."

Everyone says okay, and Rachel nods. "It's fine by me. I'll see you at home."

"Come on," Tina offers to Rachel. "We'll help you look."

"We can take you home," Matt blurts out. It surprises everyone, because Matt's always been more of the quiet, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Everyone stares at him, including Noah, who looks like a deer caught in the headlights—you know, if that deer looked like it was about to commit homicide at any second.

"It makes sense," he says, shrugging. "I mean, you all have somewhere to be and stuff, and Puck, Mike, and I are free after this. We can afford to wait—you know, if Mr. Schue's cool with letting us stay here a bit longer."

Their adviser thinks about it for a moment. He glances at the boys, then at Rachel, before nodding. "Just be careful."

"Dude, what the hell?" Noah mutters to Matt. "What are you doing? Shut _up_."

"I'm just being nice," Matt says defensively.

Mike is quick to nod his approval, shooting Rachel and Noah a grin that the former finds almost suspicious. "Matt's right. I'm cool with waiting too."

"Easy for you two to say, you aren't driving," Noah retorts. The glances of the rest of the Glee Club are on him, though, and they all look like they're pleading for him to say yes. Except for Finn, who's staunchly avoiding their gazes. He's frowning, and it looks almost like he wants to step forward and say something, but he doesn't. He just stands there, not saying a word, but Rachel catches him sneak a glance at Quinn.

Inwardly, she sighs. And here she'd thought that Finn Hudson was done disappointing her.

Rachel adds in her own pleading look to Noah. "I'd really appreciate it, and I'm sure the rest of the club will too."

He stares at each of them, his gaze longest on Rachel's, before groaning. "Fine. Can't do anything when you're all ganging up on me like that. Hummel, Santana, you go on ahead. Berry, we'll wait in the car. You'd better hurry."

As they all leave, Noah shouting, "Five minutes max, Berry!" as he does so, Rachel makes it back up the stairs and into the auditorium, scanning the floor. It takes awhile to get to where she'd been sitting—Carmel's auditorium is ridiculously large—but when she reaches there and looks through the area, eventually, she finds her purse lying on the floor.

When she stands upright again after picking it up, she is met face-to-face with the stage. It's bare now, except for the background, and the lights are dimmed. Rachel wonders what it would be like to stand on their stage. It is such a big area, after all…there is so much she could do with it…

Overcome suddenly by a curiosity she can't quite place or understand, she tells herself that one more minute couldn't hurt as her feet drag her to the front. The auditorium looks even larger from center stage, and she smiles, observing the surroundings, imaging the lights shining…

The next second later, imagination becomes reality.

The lights go on suddenly, and she flinches from the sudden brightness. "Who's there?" she calls out, feeling strangely alarmed. Looking around and seeing nobody, she slowly reaches into her pocket, and warns in a loud voice, "I carry a rape whistle!"

She hears footsteps and whips her head in time to see a boy walking towards her from stage left. Startled, she can only watch him as he approaches, taking in his appearance—blue eyes, fine, handsome features, and hair that looks soft even from a distance. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a dark grey shirt, but she recognizes this boy. Her eyesight is excellent and after today's show, she'd know him anywhere.

"You're from McKinley High's Glee Club, aren't you." It's not a question, and he doesn't even ask what she's doing on their stage. If he's surprised to see her here, he doesn't show it, and instead, holds out a hand for her to shake.

"Hi, I'm Jesse, the star of Vocal Adrenaline—your competition at Regionals." He says it in a pleasant, if not matter-of-fact way. They might as well be discussing the weather. Despite herself, she can't help but feel impressed at his straightforwardness.

Shaking her head slightly to rid herself of initial surprise, she meets his gaze and says, in her primmest voice possible as she shakes his hand briefly, "I'm Rachel Berry—"

"I know who you are," he interrupts her, the smallest of smiles making its way to his face. It suits him, smiling. "I saw you, during Sectionals. Your rendition of 'Don't Rain on My Parade' was amazing."

_Do not feel flattered, do not feel flattered…._

Her expression softens, although she's cursing her lack of discipline. _You, Rachel Berry, are a glutton for compliments._

"Well," she finally says, "Thank you. But if you know who I am, then you know that I shouldn't be talking to you. My team is waiting for me outside. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye."

"Wait." He grabs her arm gently before she can leave the stage. "I'm sorry, did I...offend you or something? I didn't—"

Extracting her arm from his hold, she shakes her head. "No, but as you stated yourself, we're competitors, and at this point, so close to the competition date—"

His face (it's rather expressive, she has to admit) takes on this mix of incredulous and confused, as if he doesn't truly comprehend what she's saying. "Yeah, but just because we're competing against each other, doesn't mean we can't talk."

_Steel yourself, Rachel_. She takes a breath. Jesse looks honest (and the fact that he's good-looking doesn't hurt either) but apart from Mr. Schue's warnings, Rachel has been in the competition circuit too long not to know the enemy's tricks…and when they're being played on her.

"Why would you want to talk with me?"

The smile widens somewhat. "Why would I pass up an opportunity to talk to a pretty, talented girl?"

Oh, he's _smooth_. Still, it's not the sleazy kind of smooth, and the way he's looking at her isn't at all uncomfortable. In fact, it's rather…_pleasant, _in a way.

"Look," he adds. "From what I've seen and heard about you, you seem…interesting. I promise not to talk about Regionals while you're here, if that'll make you feel more at ease."

It's a weird, foreign feeling that's bubbling up within her. His gaze is direct, and she suddenly feels pleasantly warm. He seems harmless enough (and his looks are, she has to admit, more than passably attractive.) And he does truly seem to want to talk to her (though for the life of her, she can't figure out why) and more importantly, he did promise not to talk about their status as competitors…and anyway, she has a rape whistle with her, so…

Rachel Berry doesn't know who this boy is, apart from the fact that he's competition (however, that's merely technicality.) But she does know that he appreciates her talent, and more importantly…he's not Finn. He's not Noah. She has no history with this Jesse person, and after all that's happened, maybe a breath of fresh air is just what she needs.

Just a minute, she tells herself, finally smiling up at Jesse. One more minute.

"So," she begins. "How long have you been performing?"

* * *

He ends up walking her to the parking lot. She ignores the stare of the three boys who are waiting outside the car and when he asks, she gives Jesse her phone number. He promises to call with that small smile/smirk that's cuter than it's supposed to be, and as she walks to Noah's car, she can't help but feel a little bit giddy.

Noah's standing by the door to the driver's side, looking annoyed, and from the corner of her eye, she can see his glance narrow as Jesse walks away. "Thanks for waiting," she says to him with a smile as they all slide inside his car and she takes a seat beside Matt in the backseat. Mike's in front, and his expression mirrors Matt's—quizzical looks.

Noah gets in and slams the door. It's quiet for a few seconds as he starts up the engine. "Is nobody gonna say it?" Noah finally calls out, glancing at Mike and Matt before sighing and looking at Rachel. "Fine, I'll do it—what the _hell_, Berry?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Noah," Rachel replies, folding her arms, but despite herself she can't help but smile a little anyway.

"You tell us to wait for a minute to get your purse, and you pick up a guy instead? And not just some guy, but a Vocal Adrenaline guy?" he snaps as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Dude, that is so wrong on so many levels."

"I don't know why you seem so upset, Noah," she tells him, honestly confused. "_Jesse_ was merely being nice, and I was just doing the same thing."

She folds her arms. "And for the record, I most certainly did not 'pick him up.' Honestly, you're making him sound like a hooker or something."

Matt and Mike burst into laughter. Noah scowls.

"He's _competition_," he stresses. "The competition is never 'nice'. Backstabbing and manipulative, yeah, but not 'nice.'"

"You don't even know him!"

"Like you do?" he shoots back. "You just met the guy. Come on, you two, back me up here—tell Berry she's insane."

"Rachel already knows we think she's insane—in the nicest possible way, of course," Mike replies, exchanging a grin with Matt. "Seriously, dude, I don't get your problem. They were just talking."

"Last I checked, Rachel can talk to whoever she wants," Matt adds. "I don't know what planet you've been living in lately, but this is America. Land of the free, and all that."

"Exactly," she says firmly. "Look, I'm sorry you had to wait so long, I lost track of time. I am fully aware of who he is, and for your information, we didn't even talk about Regionals or our setlist at all for the duration of our conversation."

Taking a breath, she adds, "And more importantly, it was just a chat. Nothing more. I doubt he'll even follow through on his promise to call me, so there."

"You even gave him your _cell number_?"

"_Noah_." Now she's beginning to get annoyed. His reaction is surprisingly violent—probably due to the fact that he had to wait so long—and it's wrecking her good mood, and she does not like it one bit.

"I'm just saying," he replies with a shrug. "It's weird and pretty suspicious. I mean, seriously Berry, think about it: What other reason would a guy from the other team have to talk to you if it wasn't to get some dirt on us for Regionals?"

His words are like a slap.

Matt is shaking his head. Mike is muttering, "Wrong thing to say, dude." And Rachel...

Rachel's mouth is set in a thin line as she glares at him, extremely offended. "It may have escaped your extremely limited scope of thought, Noah Puckerman, but there are actually people who appreciate me because of who I am, not because of some hidden agenda," she informs him, her tone cool as ice.

"It was just a _chat_. You are grossly overreacting and blowing this whole thing out of proportion for no understandable reason, and I am done discussing this topic with you." And with that, Rachel stares out the window and stays silent, determined not to say anything more until she arrives home.

It's outstanding how quickly tension can seep inside a vehicle. Add a generous helping of ridiculously slow traffic to that, and you have one very uncomfortable car ride.

(After she's made a name for herself on Broadway and has a few awards under her belt, maybe Rachel can make a cookbook. _Rachel Berry's Recipes for Awkwardness--_now there's a title that could be very promising.)


	15. Chapter 15

**A.N:** Glee is back, guys! *Cheers loudly* For some reason, watching Hell-o has only reinforced my belief that Finn and Rachel just don't work as a couple—he just keeps disappointing her too much. And despite the fact that he's competition and is probably playing her, I actually enjoyed Jesse/Rachel. Jonathan Groff = amazing.

Speaking of amazing….Power of Madonna episode = Epically Awesome/Awesomely Epic.

Although the episodes have already started airing, I will still continue using what I've seen in _promos_, so you'll still find familiar lines here, only the scenes may not end the way they actually did in the show. Also, once again, thank you to the lovely people who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are the only thing keeping me from losing my sanity during this boredom-induced summer vacation.

Wow, this is a long author's note. *is shutting up now*

**Disclaimer:** In truth and reality, I don't own anything still. But while auditorium lights don't on run on dreams, my imagination of owning Glee does.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Fifteen**

So _this_ is what a stable, double-sided relationship feels like. It's nice.

Jesse had made good on his promise to call the very night she'd given him her number, and things had just…progressed from there. Before he'd said goodbye, he asked her out to lunch for the next day and she'd accepted. They'd spent lunch talking about _everything_—from equal rights to college to whether Rihanna's harder, edgier music was more appealing than her songs pre-assault. Jesse has a wide vocabulary to match hers, and he's not afraid to say what's on his mind.

Three dates, numerous conversations, and one amazing kiss later, and Rachel Berry knows she's in extreme danger of falling for the enemy.

It's surprising and somewhat worrisome, but at the same time not entirely unwelcome (does that even make any sense?) to realize that that might not be such a bad thing.

They've only been dating for about a week and a half, but she feels good about this. Happy. They're extremely alike in so many ways, but it doesn't feel like she's dating a male version of herself. They have differences, and they disagree on a number of topics, which keeps conversations interesting. It's not perfect but it's pretty darn close, and it's all just amazing.

He makes her _feel_ amazing, and that's the important thing, right?

Quinn, bless her, doesn't criticize her out loud.

Rachel had introduced him after he'd brought her home one day, and they'd exchanged a few words. She can sense the blonde's disapproval strongly, but Quinn doesn't say anything—perhaps it's far too early or perhaps she realizes how hypocritical it would be to judge Rachel on inappropriate relationships. Whatever the case, Quinn keeps her opinions to herself and listens while Rachel prattles on about Jesse, and for that, she's grateful.

In the back of her mind, she wonders how the club is going to react to this when they find out, but she forces herself not to think about it. She'll cross that bridge when she comes to it, and right now, she just wants to enjoy the moment.

* * *

The thing about relationships in the world of Rachel Berry is that most things have a way of mucking themselves up sooner or later.

The entire Glee Club knows. She's not quite sure how, but she knows they do the moment she steps into the choir room during free period with a spring in her step, but stops short when she's met with the level stares of the original Glee club members.

"Hi, guys," she greets them brightly. They don't smile back.

"We heard about your new boyfriend," Kurt says, arms folded. "The star of Vocal Adrenaline himself, huh? I'm gonna say this as nicely as possible Rachel, but you have an uncanny habit of choosing boys you know you'll never and aren't supposed to have."

She's surprised, but only rolls her eyes. "Kurt—"

"Just hear us out." Mercedes steps forward. "Look, we're not saying that dude is playing you—"

"—he's playing you," Kurt interjects calmly.

Rachel sighs; somehow, she should've expected this. "Look, I know the situation isn't ideal, and we might not be true love, but what if we are? I mean, I know who I am. How many chances am I going to get at something like this?"

Their faces soften, but only by a small fraction. "It's great that you're happy, Rachel, but you can't really expect us to just be cool with this," Artie says with a frown. "He may be your boyfriend, but he's still competition."

"You saw what happened during Sectionals. We don't want to go through that again," Tina adds.

"Do you think I've forgotten?" Rachel exclaims, hurt. "I want us to win. Nothing is going to compromise that."

"Really? Mercedes takes a step forward, close enough so she can stare Rachel down. "Look, all you've ever wanted is for us to be great, to be part of something special. But is that still true? Because that can't happen if you're with him."

"Even Brittany can tell he's using you, and that's really saying something," Kurt says. "I'm sorry but the timing of everything's just too suspicious. It couldn't have been more obvious that something fishy's going on with this guy if he walked around with a sign on his head that says, 'I'm Playing Rachel!'"

She shakes her head, trying to reign in her slowly rising irritation. "So you're all saying that I should break up with him."

They nod without hesitation.

Mercedes lays a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "At least until Regionals blow over, we can't risk it. And anyway, we're just looking out for you. If it turns out this guy is messing with you—and it definitely looks like he is—it's not just Glee that's going to get hurt. You will too."

She stares at each one of them in turn, a foreign but unpleasant feeling overcoming her. They all mean well, but…they don't understand. "Then I'm sorry too," she finally says. "I love Glee, but I'm not breaking up with him. I'm happy, you guys. For the first time, someone wants to be with me because of me, and I'm not giving him up that easily. But I can assure you, we've kept our professional lives separate from our personal ones and I don't intend to slip up. So if this ends badly, you don't have to worry because I'll be the only one getting hurt."

And not even bothering to wait for their replies, she storms out, hoping that the rest of her day won't be as bad.

* * *

Her day does not get better.

"Hey, Rach."

She shuts her locker and gives Finn a smile. They haven't been talking much these days, so it's a welcome difference that he's the one seeking her out this time. "Hi, Finn. What's up?"

"Nothing, I just—" He pauses for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That you're dating a Vocal Adrenaline guy," he says with a frown. "Is it true?"

Rachel takes a moment to look at him. There's some curiosity there, but it's really mostly jealousy she can sense from him. Here's the thing, though: It doesn't thrill her as much as she thought it would. In fact, it almost annoys her.

(For all intents and purposes, he has no right to be jealous. And anyway, she's not dating Jesse to make him jealous. She's doing it for herself, and it just figures that the moment she does something like this, Finn does a 180. She's almost pretty sure by now that they both have horrible timing.)

So she holds her head high and replies, "Yes, it's true. His name is Jesse, and we are in fact seeing each other—not that it's any of your business." She gives him a tight little smile and prepares to leave, but he speaks, stopping her.

"Rachel don't you think that's kinda suspicious? I mean, we make it to Regionals and suddenly the top guy in our main competition picks you up?"

"Ugh!" Rachel exclaims, her mouth setting into a firm line. "I really wish people would stop saying the phrase 'pick up'—honestly, you're all making this seem like an escort service or something."

"Rachel, come on. I'm just saying—"

"Look, I already had this conversation with the rest of the club, and I really don't want to repeat myself but I'll say this one last time. I know what I'm doing, and I promise you that me dating Jesse won't affect Regionals in any way."

"That's kinda impossible," he points out. "Since he's competition and everything. Rachel, I'm just concerned about you. You haven't really been acting yourself lately," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her eyes flash and she folds her arms, suddenly feeling very tired. "I'm sorry I haven't been pining over you these past few weeks, but believe it or not, I do have a life."

"No, that's not what I meant—"

Her eyes soften; this is getting way out of hand, and the day's not even over yet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I know what you're saying, it's just…I'm fine, okay? I'm happy with Jesse. I don't want to ruin that just because we're like a real-life personification of Romeo and Juliet."

He doesn't say anything for awhile, just studies her. She looks back at him. _Please understand. _

"You really like this guy, huh?" he finally says.

She nods. "I do. A lot."

"Even…" he pauses, like he's not sure how to put it. "Even more than me?"

The hallway goes silent. Well, not really, but the sounds of the other students seem distant in her ears and at this moment it's just her and Finn, nothing and no one else. "Finn, I—"

"Look, Rach, we didn't….I mean, with everything that's happened we haven't really been able to talk, you know? We kinda left it hanging and I don't want that anymore. So I guess what I'm saying is—"

"Don't," she says, holding out a hand to stop him and she's stunned and annoyed to hear the slightest of breaks in her voice. "Don't say anything you're not a hundred percent sure of. I still see you looking at her, Finn, the way I always wished you would look at me. You're not over Quinn, and if you stopped being so mad all the time at her and Noah, you'd see that too."

He frowns, and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. "Look, I know I haven't been fair to you lately and I'm sorry. You're right, I'm not over her yet, but I'm trying—"

"So am I," she interrupts him. She's tired of the heartache she's gotten from him, however unintentional, and now that she's finally happy, she doesn't want this hanging over her head anymore.

She'll do this for Quinn. More importantly, she'll do this for her own self-respect.

"You still love her, and she won't say it but she still loves you too. And I can't believe I'm saying this but you need to talk to her and figure out what it is you really want, and in the meantime I can't just sit around and wait for you forever. Whatever feelings we may have for each other, I'm beginning to think it's not enough anymore and I don't want to lose your friendship over this whole mess."

"Rachel—"

"I'm trying to get over you, Finn," she says, meeting his eyes and willing him to understand. "Please don't ruin that."

The bell rings then, and for the second time that day, she leaves without any preamble and walks through the hallway, pretending that her heart isn't breaking just a tiny bit.

* * *

That afternoon after school, she's completely surprised to see Jesse in the parking lot. Because Quinn has gotten too big to drive, and Rachel is still learning how to, Noah's taken to driving them to and from school these days.

Today apparently will be different.

He's standing by his car, cool and composed in a black jacket and something inside her flutters when he smiles. "Hey," he says, kissing her briefly.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him. "Carmel isn't exactly nearby and…don't you have—other commitments?" She doesn't say _'rehearsal'_ out loud.

"Don't worry about it. I wanted to see you," he says simply. "And, I'm hungry, so I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat before going home. Shall we go?"

She feels eyes on her and turns her head to see Mercedes and Kurt giving her looks as they walk past. Rachel bites her lip, the stress of this horrible day finally taking a toll on her.

Jesse takes one look at them, then at her, then says, "Let me guess. Your teammates know about us and they told you to break up with me."

"In a nutshell, yes," she tells him with a sigh.

"I figured," he replies. "That sad little expression you have on right about now could rival Collin's after Angel died." Despite her down mood, she manages to smile at that.

And smile she should, because there is something to be happy about, after all. He came all the way here just to see her? It's a sweet gesture, one that no one's ever done before, and it makes the fluttering in her stomach go into overdrive and Rachel is…well, she's floored.

It's moments like this that she prays this isn't all just a trick.

"You wanna get out of here?" Jesse's voice brings her back, and she nods, but just before she can go in, a very familiar voice calls out, "Hey, Berry!"

"Noah," she acknowledges. "Was there something you needed?"

It's then that he notices Jesse and his demeanor visibly tenses. "Yeah, I was just wondering why you weren't with Quinn. We gotta go."

Rachel gives him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you, but I'll be catching a ride with—"

"Hi, I'm Jesse, her boyfriend," he says with a friendly grin as he stretches out his hand. She doesn't miss the emphasis on his last word. "Sorry, I kind of surprised Rachel here so she wasn't able to tell you. Speaking of which…you are?"

"Puck," he says shortly. He ignores the hand. "So you're going with him, then? Okay." His tone is cool as ice.

Jesse's still smiling, but that gleam in his eyes…it almost looks like a challenge. "Like I said," Jesse says, slinging an arm around Rachel's shoulders. His hold is tighter than usual. "Surprise. Sorry."

"Whatever." Noah gives her a curt nod. "I'll see you around, Berry." And before she can bring him to one side and berate him for being so rude, he walks away. Jesse's hold relaxes, but he's frowning.

"He's in Glee with you, right?" When Rachel nods, he says, "I don't like him."

"What? Admittedly, he was being rude, but you just met him."

"He looks at you funny," Jesse says blandly with a shrug. "Like he wants to shake you and kiss you at the same time. I know that look; I get it all the time from girls. Anyway, it's fair: He clearly doesn't like me either."

Rachel pauses in the act of opening the car door as his words sink in. Did he just—Noah—and her—and—_no_. That's just wrong. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't like her…_that_ way, and besides, she has a _boyfriend_. And Noah's just a friend. It's weird, but it doesn't change anything. And anyway, Jesse's probably wrong. No, not 'probably'—Rachel's sure that he's mistaken.

It's with that thought that she gets into the car. She smiles at him one more time before he starts the car and begins pulling away from McKinley High's parking lot. They talk the entire time on the way to the diner, and she keeps up with the conversation, trying to shove the thought into the back of her mind.

_Like he wants to shake you and kiss you at the same time. _Noah? How absurd.

(Rachel doesn't know why it matters. Or why she cares.)


	16. Chapter 16

**A.N: **Hey guys! This chapter, as well as the next one, is written in Puck's POV. It's about time we heard again from him. Besides, Denial! Puck is weirdly fun to write. Also, just a warning: I think I might've abused the word 'crazy' *hangs head in shame* Oh well. I never said Puck had a wide vocabulary.

As always, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! All of you who read/review/alert this story are amazing and wonderful and I hand virtual chocolate chip cookies out to all of you.

**Disclaimer:** I finally saw the video of the cast on Oprah (thank you internet!), and if I owned Glee, Puck would be wearing wife-beaters or not know that shirts existed in every episode. Sadly, I don't own Glee, but I can dream.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Sixteen**

He's pissed. Like majorly, people-better-run pissed.

And he has no freaking idea why.

Which, of course, makes him even more pissed off. It's a vicious cycle, really.

('Viscous cycle'? It's when he starts sprouting shit like that in his head that he realizes he's been spending way too much time with the midget.)

"Will you stop sulking?" Quinn snaps at him from the backseat. "I swear, if I have to look at you acting like that for one more minute, this baby's gonna be born with frown lines."

He doesn't say anything, just grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are turning white. It's weird, but he keeps seeing Rachel in his mind's eye—Rachel and that douchebag she calls a boyfriend. He keeps remembering the way that idiot slung an arm around her and gave him a look that clearly said, "_Back off."_

If there's one thing he recognizes, it's when a dude marks his territory. It couldn't have been more obvious than if he peed on her.

"Let's stop by Diary Queen before heading home," Quinn tells him. "I want ice cream." He still doesn't say anything, but he does make the left turn that'll take them downtown. He just wants to drop her off so he can smash something, but he does what she says anyway because he can't think straight at the moment and besides, he can't really complain because he did knock her up and all, which basically makes him her bitch.

"Seriously, what is wrong with you today?" she asks, and she's frowning this time. "You've been acting weird ever since—wait a minute." Suddenly her frown turns into That Smile, the one she usually wore when she was still Cheerios captain, the one that basically meant you were screwed.

"This about a girl, isn't it," she says, sounding surer of herself as she keeps on talking. "Are you actually having trouble getting the girl? I'm shocked—and impressed that there's someone who's actually immune to your so-called charm."

_Yeah, because you totally weren't._ But he doesn't say it out loud, because hello, he'd like to keep living, thank you. "What the hell, Fabray?" he snaps. "I don't know how you thought that one up, but you're crazy. I'm not trying to score with Berry. I just don't like that douchebag boyfriend of hers."

Quinn doesn't say anything at first. Then… "I never said anything about Rachel," she points out smugly.

Damn pregnant women and their evil, trappy logic.

"I knew it! This is about her!" she says, triumphantly and crap, this doesn't look good. "Oh my goodness, you're jealous of Jesse! No wonder you're mad, you like Rachel!" And then she starts laughing like a maniac.

Shit. Pregnant Quinn = Crazy Quinn.

"You know, I'm pretty sure crazy isn't good for the baby," he points out. She just keeps laughing.

"I'm living at the Berry's, this baby is practically living off crazy," she retorts. "And don't change the subject. You have a crush on her, don't you?"

Puck groans, because _'crush'_? Really, Quinn? What is he, a twelve year-old girl? "What the fuck made you think _that_?"

"You keep looking at her a lot," she lists. "And you keep talking about her. Also, you're jealous of Jesse."

"I don't do that," he replies automatically, because seriously, he doesn't. So what if his eyes wander around the room and they happen to land on her? It's called an _accident_, dude. Besides, him liking Rachel? Not gonna happen. She's hot, yeah, but there's only so much crazy he can handle before losing it.

"And I'm not jealous of pretty-boy," he adds with a scoff. "I just don't trust him. Come on, he's a Vocal Adrenaline guy. You can't tell me that _you_ like him."

"I don't like him," Quinn immediately says. "But it's Rachel's choice, and she picked him. We all tried talking to her, she won't listen. Let her be for now." She tilts her head. "One question, though: If you're not jealous, then why do you care so much?"

"I don't," he says shortly, because damn it, he _doesn't_. Really.

"Then why are you so mad?"

Damn it, why does Dairy Queen have to be so far away? "I'm just saying—well, when the shit finally hits the fan, everyone's gonna be pissed at each other and then we really won't have any chance at Regionals."

"Aww," Quinn says, smiling at him like a mom who's just seen her baby do/say something cute. Puck's pretty sure that if she could, she'd lean over and try to ruffle his mohawk. _Fuck_. "You actually care about other people now. That's a sign of maturity."

Puck sighs, because he doesn't know what's gotten into Quinn today, but she's acting weirder than usual. "Quinn—"

"And don't even try telling me that I don't know what I'm talking about, because I've been trained to spot when a person starts caring about someone. It makes them so much easier to exploit and manipulate." And that weird mom-smile she has on her face transforms back into That Smile, and he can't believe he hasn't noticed this before but Quinn Fabray? Kinda scary.

Not that he'd ever say that out loud, of course.

"You're insane," he tells her flatly. "Look, can we just drop this? I'm not jealous or whatever, and I don't like Berry. We're friends or something like that, but that's it. No way could something else happen."

"Is it so hard to believe that you could fall for someone?" Quinn asks. "You liked me," she points out in a quieter sort of voice and yeah, this conversation isn't turning awkward at all. Right.

"That's…different," he replies, trying not to look at her, but when he chances a look at the mirror, he sees her raising an eyebrow. "It just is, okay?" When she doesn't say anything, he adds the moment they meet a red light. "This is weird."

"What?"

"You're having my kid," he points out. "And you're talking about me liking Berry, who by the way, used to go after Finn, your _ex_ and my best friend. Think about that for a second then tell me that that doesn't sound like something out of the Twilight Zone."

"Point taken," she admits after awhile. "I know it's weird. But…let's just say that I wouldn't hate it if you did like her."

"Why not?" And this time, he really is curious.

"Crazy as it sounds, in a sort of messed-up kind of way, she's good for you," she tells him simply, hand resting on her stomach. "And you're good for her."

He's not sure, but he thinks his baby-mama's just given him permission to like Rachel Berry.

Not that it changes things, but you know…just sayin'.

"Whatever," is all he says as they finally arrive and he pulls into the parking lot. "I still think you're insane, though." Quinn only smiles at him, like she knows something he doesn't, before walking inside the store.

It startles him to realize that this is probably the first most honest conversation they'd had in weeks.

* * *

"She looks happy, though," Matt says after awhile the next day after class ends. They're at the school parking lot, leaning against Puck's car, watching Berry getting picked up by the boyfriend whose hair looks like it has a life of its own.

"Duh, of course she is," Puck says with a snort. "Dude acts like he practically worships the fucking ground she walks on—don't give me that look, Chang," he warns when Mike starts grinning at him.

"I don't think anyone likes the fact that they're together, except the both of them. It's pretty ballsy of Rachel, though, being with a guy who's part of our competition," Mike muses.

"Pathetic is more like it," he says, running a hand through his 'hawk. "Does she want a guy so badly that she's willing to risk Regionals for it?"

Matt and Mike stare at each other for a moment, then turn to him with something in their eyes that kinda looks like pity. "And that way of talking," Matt says gravely. "Is exactly the reason why Jesse beat you to it before you could make a move on Rachel."

He gives out a groan of frustration. People really don't know when to quit. "Why does everyone keep _saying_ that? Why would I want to willingly attach myself to Crazy Chick over there when there are millions of normal girls who want me?" He gestures to himself, and Matt and Mike roll their eyes.

"Right," Matt says sarcastically with a shake of her head. "And the fact that you haven't gotten laid since you and Rachel started spending more time together doesn't say anything at all about your situation."

"Shut up," he mutters, mostly because he doesn't even want to know how they found out about _that_. "You're all crazy—you two and Quinn. I don't know how the hell you managed to jump to that kind of conclusion, but you're all _wrong_. I just have a problem with that Jesse guy. That's all."

None of them say anything for awhile. "Dude," Mike suddenly says, all excitedly. "We should totally do a stake-out."

_"What?" _Seriously? Chang's always had some pretty whacked ideas, but this one definitely takes the cake.

"A stake-out," he repeats. "You know, we go all undercover and follow Rachel's boyfriend around, see where he goes, what he's up to. That way we'll be able to know for sure if he's playing her." He frowns. "I don't know about you guys, but that Jesse guy seems pretty sketchy to me."

"We don't need to do that to know that he is," Puck says with a scowl but Matt holds out a hand, thoughtful.

"That's actually not a bad idea," he says after awhile. "I don't like the guy much either, and I haven't even met him yet. How about this Saturday? We've got nothing to do, anyway, and I overheard Rachel saying that they couldn't go out on Saturday because Jesse has glee rehearsal. It's perfect."

It's on the tip of his tongue to say no, but it hits Puck suddenly how bad the fallout's gonna be if Rachel gets too—what did she call it? Oh yeah—'emotionally invested' in this guy then finds out later that he's playing her. She'd probably go apeshit, and he really, really doesn't want to have to see that. He'd probably be dead in ten seconds flat if she went full-on psycho on him.

(Puck swears that that isn't concern for her in his voice. It isn't.)

So it's because of self-preservation (that's the only reason, he firmly tells himself) that he finds himself nodding along to this crackpot idea. Besides, funny as it might sound, he's slowly beginning to see some merit in this idea. "Berry's gonna kill us if she finds out, but what the hell. You might be on to something here. If we don't find out if he's playing her or not, at least we'll get to find out that he's a douchebag. That guy acts way too slick to be real."

He can almost imagine the look on her face when they tell her they've dug up something big about him. Knowing her, she'd probably break it off with Jesse (and preferably kick him in the balls), and then cry it off somewhere. Then, she'd come back to him and say thanks for looking out for her or something equally sappy like that. He'd just grin and say no problem, and if she decides to thank him more with a kiss or two, well then, who'd he be to refuse?

The moment he thinks it, he tries not to groan out loud. What's going on with him? _Snap out of it, Puckerman_, he thinks to himself. _You seriously need to get laid soon before you keep thinking stuff like that. _

Puck shakes his head and zones back into the conversation. "We can take my car," Matt offers. "If we do that, there's less chance that we'll be recognized."

Mike and Puck stare at him.

"Dude," Puck says with something like shock. "You have a car?"

"What?" Matt says defensively. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I know you do, but," Mike replies, scratching the back of his neck. "You hardly use it, so it's really easy to forget that you have one."

"It's my _baby_," Matt says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "If I keep driving around in it, it'll be in as crappy a shape as Puck's car—no offense," he adds hastily.

"You do know," Puck says slowly, because what kind of guy would hide a _car_? "That the point of having a car is so you can use it, right?"

"Not the point here," Matt reminds him. "So, are we doing this or not?"

Mike grins, and even Puck can't help but join in. "Hell yeah."

* * *

It's Saturday now, and Mike, the one who thought this whole thing up in the first place, is seriously throwing away some valuable spying time.

"Dude, why the hell did your brain wait until we were almost at Carmel to remind you that you left your videocam in your _gym_ _locker_?" Matt groans from his spot on the bench as Mike twists the knob to his combination. "Your parents would've killed you if that'd gotten lost."

"Be thankful that thing has extra zoom, Chang," Puck mutters with a scowl. "Or else you'd be dead by now."

"Nice to know you just want me for my camera," Mike says sarcastically as his locker finally snaps open. He immediately begins looking through the mess just as they hear footsteps getting closer.

"What the hell are you three doing here?"

They all turn around at the voice. From his locker, Mike raises a hand in greeting. "Hey, Finn. What're _you_ doing here?"

Finn's got that confused/suspicious look on his face as he says, "There's something I left in my locker. It's Saturday. What are you guys doing here?"

"We're picking up Mike's videocam," Matt explains, throwing an annoyed look at Mike, who just raised a hand in surrender.

"What for?" Finn asks as he opens his own locker and takes something out before shutting it again.

"We're gonna spy on Jesse," Mike says, grinning. "You know, Rachel's boyfriend. We're gonna find out once and for all if he's playing her or not."

"You don't have to do that to find out that he is," Finn points out. "I don't care what Rachel says, it's pretty obvious that he's just messing around."

"See? Even Finn sees it," Puck says, and immediately, Finn turns to him, like he just realized he was there too.

He can't even pretend to look surprised that Finn doesn't look like he wants to kill him anymore.

Huh. When did _that_ happen?

"Got it!" Mike says triumphantly, holding it up and shutting his locker. "Let's get out of here."

Matt and Puck stand as Finn glances outside. "I guess I'm gonna go. Good luck with that spying thing or whatever. Try not to get caught."

"Look, do you want to come with us or something?" The offer's out of Puck's mouth before he can think about it, and they all turn to him with _WTF_ expressions on their faces. Why'd he have to open his big mouth? But when Finn looks at him again, and he's pretty sure he's not just seeing things—his best friend really does look like his best friend again, and not some sort of homicidal maniac—he swears he can hear this chirpy little voice in his head that sounds freakishly like the Midget-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named saying, _This is your chance. Take it. _

"It'll probably be lame and boring but what the hell, right? We might actually find out something important," Puck shrugs, trying not to make this seem like a big deal, but truth is, he kind of misses his best friend. And Finn's huge collection of videogames. But mostly his best friend. (Damn it. He's turning into a girl.)

It feels like a long time, but Finn finally nods, and he's actually grinning a little when he looks at each of them in turn. "Okay. I'm in."

* * *

**A.N:** How was that? Don't worry, Finn's sort-of change of heart will be further explained in the next chapter, which will also feature the actual stake-out. Hope you enjoyed reading, please review, and thanks! Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

**A.N.: **I know this author's note is quite long, but please do bear with me.

First of all, a big apology for not updating sooner. Apart from the fact that life got in the way, this chapter was insanely difficult to write. I started writing this a day after I posted chapter sixteen, but nothing just seemed right. I tried writing in Puck's POV, even Rachel's, and nothing worked, even after five revisions.

And then I kept listening to the song previews for next week's episode and suddenly, something just _clicked_. It completely changed the direction for this story and it became a game-changer, but strangely enough, I'm happy with it, and I hope you will be too.

This chapter alternates between Rachel and Puck's POVs, and features flashbacks from the stakeout. So I'm going to stop ranting about something that you guys probably don't want to read anyway, and just get on with the story. I hope you all like it, and as always, thank you to the amazing people who reviewed the last chapter!

Okay. Shutting up for real now. Here's the chapter.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Rachel freezes at the sight before her. She should've known it was too good to last.

It's Monday. Second period's just ended and she has free period now, so she's leisurely keeping her books and planning to meet up with Quinn in the choir room. And then, she sees it: the unmistakable sight of Karofsky and Azimio walking towards her.

And they've got slushies in their hands.

She tells herself to stay calm, act like she hasn't seen them, but she's cursing herself at her complacency. Ever since she and Noah started being friends, the slushies have more or less stopped, so she hadn't felt the need to bring her usual emergency back-up outfit lately. Staring down at her beige sweater, she mournfully notes, _This is my favorite…_

Rachel could run. But she won't. She learnt that lesson during freshman year, where running only got her a slushie to the face AND a few scrapes and bruises from falling.

They're too close now, and part of her wishes she hadn't seen them coming; if it had been a sneak attack, it would've felt a little easier on her nerves. They're leering at her, cup in hand, and she sighs and closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable splash of flavored ice.

It doesn't come.

Instead, she hears a, _"What the hell, Puck_?" from both of them, and she opens her eyes to see grape and cherry slushie staining Azimio and Karofsky's shirts. Noah's beside her (where did he even come from?), and he's smirking at both of them.

"Dude, didn't I tell you to quit this shit already?" Noah says coolly at both of them. "Lay off the slushies. It's old news."

"We don't need to listen to you," Karofsky retorts. "You don't make the rules around here anymore."

"Dude, are you actually sticking up for this loser?" Azimio adds with a sneer at Rachel. "I know you joined Homo Explosion and everything, but I didn't think you were that far gone."

_Noah, don't_, is all Rachel can think as he takes a step towards both of them. "Look, I'm only gonna say this once. Stay away from Berry. You two mess with her one more time, and—"

"What? You'll throw us in the dumpster?" Azimio says and both boys snicker.

Noah just smirks. "Nah. Berry can more than take care of herself, so I'm just gonna let her unleash all her crazy on you. You'll wish you got tossed in the dumpster instead. It doesn't matter if she does it or not, though. Try slushie-ing her one more time and I will bash your heads in too."

(Rachel can't help but feel pleased that he thinks she's strong enough to take care of herself, but has no idea why his bash-your-heads-in threat sends a thrill up her spine. She can, however, most definitely tell you that she is not turned on in the slightest by his knight-in-shining-armor act.

Stop looking at her like that. She isn't. She's not supposed to be. So she isn't. Really.

Shut up.)

"Seriously, dude?" Azimio's face contorts in pure disgust. "_Rachel Berry_? What the hell do you see in her? "

"What, is she such a good fuck that you're keeping her off-limits?" Karofsky pushes Noah lightly; he pushes back. "By the way, was Quinn Fabray that much of a freak in the sheets as Berry? There must be a reason why you and Hudson keep trading them between you two. It's sick."

Noah considers that for a moment. And then, he promptly launches at the both of them.

Rachel's hand flies to her mouth, and she can't tear her eyes away from the fist-fight that's happening right in front of her. People are staring now, and she hears someone say, "Someone call a teacher!" before realizing it's her own voice. It doesn't feel like she can move though; she feels rooted to the spot.

"Stop it, all of you!" she calls out desperately. "Fighting does not solve anything—Noah!" she trails off as Karofsky manages to get a good punch to his face.

And then, she sees a flash of dark green and realizes that it's Finn. She watches him as he pulls Karofsky off Noah, and within seconds he's joined the scuffle.

Great. Like this day couldn't get any worse.

"Okay, okay, break it up!" Mr. Schue calls out suddenly as he runs up to them, Principal Figgins trailing behind him. He manages to separate Karofsky and Azimio from Puck and Finn, and Rachel gasps. They're all breathing heavily, an assortment of cuts and marks that are already starting to bruise forming on their faces and it doesn't look pleasant in the slightest.

"You okay, dude?" Finn asks, clasping a hand on Puck's shoulder.

He nods. "Yeah. You?" Finn nods as Figgins and Mr. Schue prattle on about violence and Rachel can't do anything at the moment, because what on earth was _that_? Finn jumping to Puck's aid, asking each other if they were okay?

What on earth was going on here?

"Are you alright, Rachel?" Mr. Schue calls out to her, and it's only then that she finds her voice. "I'm fine Mr. Schue."

Mr. Schue and Principal Figgins start talking about seeing the nurse before going to the Principal's Office, and Rachel watches as the adults lead the four idiots—yes, idiots. They should know better than to rise to the bait and exchange blows like cavemen!—away. As the hallway goes back to normal, Rachel leans against the lockers and breathes in deep.

Puck and Finn…it just doesn't make sense. As she tries wrapping her head around the situation, one thing becomes certain: She is definitely going to have a talk with both of them soon.

* * *

When the door to the nurse's office opens, Puck and Finn look up to see Quinn, and _shit_, she looks pissed.

Seriously. She looks homicidal right now with those crazy-eyed glares she's giving them both. Like when she was still a Cheerio, only a hundred times scarier. Laying her hands on her stomach, Quinn doesn't stop glaring at them. Puck raises a hand. "Hey, baby-mama."

A second later, and Puck realizes he should've just shut up.

"Are you two _insane_?" she explodes, and no joke, she looks scary right now. "Fighting in the hallway—do you two _want_ me to go into pre-term labor?"

Dude, even Finn looks freaked. "Relax," Puck tells her, giving her a _you-sound-crazy-right-now-but-you're-pregnant-so-I'll-go-along-with-it_ smile. "We were just helping out Berry—and you. We were being your knights in shining armor or whatever you call it."

"They were saying stuff about Rachel and you," Finn says directly, and if the stake-out hadn't happened, Puck would've been surprised that he's talking so easily to her. "Bad stuff. Puck told me. We couldn't just let them get away with it."

Their eyes meet before quickly looking away. Now Finn's avoiding looking at her, and Quinn…well, Quinn's now turning to Puck, still pissed, and yeah, that's bad.

"But fighting? And in front of _Rachel_? Do you two have a death wish or something?" she hisses dangerously, but she's mostly looking at Puck now.

"Berry's not gonna kill us, we were being chivalrous and shit," he says confidently.

(He really needs to learn how to shut up.)

"Do you two know why Rachel isn't here with me right now?" she says very slowly. "She's ready to kill both of you via, among other things, a lecture on the horrors of violence—Powerpoint presentation from the guidance office included—but she can't decide whether to do it because you were defending us."

Her voice rises as she keeps on talking, and Puck and Finn exchange looks. Yep, definitely scary-crazy. "She's stressed about this whole thing, and do you know what she does when she's stressed? She talks. Full-on babble. And who has to listen to her? Me. So when she gets stressed, _I_ get stressed, and I. Cannot. Get. Stressed. _Do you understand me_?"

Quinn's voice is now a scary-high-pitch and if looks could kill, they'd be six feet under by now. And just like that, Puck learns one very important lesson: _Do not mess with pregnant women or their equally crazy friends. _

"Yes, ma'am," Puck says, kinda weakly and yes. He's pathetic.

"Got it," Finn says, nodding his head, but he's still not looking at her.

Quinn looks at them one more time before taking a deep breath. She sinks into the nearest available seat, her shoulders slumped, like the fight's suddenly gone out of her, and all Puck can say is, _thank god._ "Well, that was exhausting," Quinn says with no real heat in her voice, and wow. Mood-swing much? She even smiles a bit. "I'm still mad at both of you for being idiots, but at least you're not fighting each other this time."

Her head snaps up, like she's just realized something, and _finally_. Puck was wondering when she'd notice. "Wait," she says slowly, like she's trying to understand something herself. "You're sitting together. And you're not fighting or sulking. And…Rachel said that Finn jumped in to help Puck." She frowns. "What's going on?"

Puck shrugs. "Long story."

"Free period," she retorts.

"Fine," he says with an eye-roll. "But no babbling to Berry yet, got it?"

* * *

_"Okay, listen," Mike says, whipping around to face Puck and Finn both. "This is what we're gonna do. Me and Matt are gonna go around Carmel, find a way into the auditorium. I know for a fact that Vocal Adrenaline keeps the school on lockdown when they have Saturday practice, so we can't just walk in easily."_

_Finn frowns. "And what the hell are Puck and I supposed to do?"_

"_You and Puck stay here and keep a lookout. We'll text you when we find a way in."_

_Puck sits up and shakes his head. "No fucking way, Chang. You can't leave us here! We're going with."_

_"Look, if someone sees you two—if Jesse sees you two—you're both dead," Matt says hurriedly, eyes darting from them to the school. "You're known by them. Us, not so much. Let us do the sneaking around, so we can tell you which way to go and you'll be able to get in easy. The quicker you two can get inside the school, the better. Just stay put until we text you."_

_"You can't just leave us—" Finn starts to say but Matt and Mike are already out the door, drawing up the hoods on their jackets. They're alternating between hunching down and hiding behind pillars and running super-fast and Puck groans, because seriously? _

_Those two look pretty freaking stupid._

_(Puck seriously doesn't know why they left him behind. If there's anyone who's a master at breaking and entering, it's him.)_

_"Fuck this, man," Puck complains. "I dunno about you, but I'm going after them. Those two are gonna blow our cover for sure." And he reaches for the door handle._

_It won't open. _

_Like some bad 70's sitcom, Finn's phone beeps with a text from Matt at that moment (boy had pretty quick fingers when it came to texting.) _Oh, btw, I locked you in. Only way you can get out is if we open it ourselves or you press a button but I'm not telling you which one. Cool, huh? My car's badass like that. ;)

_He's never said this before, but Matt Rutherford is one sneaky son of a bitch._

_Puck slumps in his seat and gives out a breath of air. "This sucks."_

"_Tell me about it," Finn agrees and he's gonna sound like a pansy right now but Puck freezes, just for a second, because he realizes this is the first time he's been alone with his best friend since babygate broke out. It looks like Finn's finally realized it too, 'cuz he starts fidgeting and looking away. _

_Okay, cool. If Finn's not gonna say anything, then neither will he. _

"_So, did you get that new Call of Duty game yet?" Finn suddenly asks, looking at him. _

_(Crap. There goes the whole not-talking plan.)_

_Puck shakes his head, playing it cool even though he's slowly getting freaked out by how normal Finn's acting right now. "Nah. I'm giving Quinn everything I can earn. Not much, but you know. It helps."_

"_Oh." Finn shifts uncomfortably. "Right. We talked yesterday, you know. Me and Quinn. Well, she talked mostly, but…" _

_That makes Puck straighten up, because he didn't know _that_. "So, what, you guys are cool now?"_

"_I don't know," he replies with a shrug. "She cornered me after school and apologized and stuff and I said some things too and—look, the point is, something Rachel told me a few days ago got me thinking. I don't know if I'm ready to totally forgive you two yet, but…I don't wanna be mad anymore."_

"_You sound like a chick," Puck points out, but he's not gonna screw this up again. "But yeah. I guess I was an ass, you know, with what I did. I'm sorry."_

"_Now who sounds like a chick?" Finn says, but he's grinning a little bit and Puck grins right back, because even though it feels like they're suddenly acting in some lame Lifetime movie, he (maybe) has his best friend back, and that's the important thing. _

_They've just started talking about Super Mario brothers (what, did you think they were gonna cry and hug and braid each other's hair? And anyway, it doesn't matter what Quinn says, Puck didn't come up with his insane theories alone, you know) when Finn's phone lights up with a text. _

Employee's entrance. Take a left, first door you can see. Press the small square button inside the glove compartment.

"_Thank god," Puck mutters as Finn leans over to open the glove compartment, press the button (inside the glove compartment? How'd he even put that in _there_?) and the car unlocks. They get out and walk towards the school, and Puck's thinking that he's gonna murder Rutherford and Chang when he sees them. _

_Okay, maybe not. He's feeling generous right now—hell, he feels good, better than he has in awhile. Finn and him…they aren't totally okay yet. But Finn's talking to him and Quinn again, so yeah. It's a start. _

* * *

"You were spying on Jesse last Saturday?" Quinn says in disbelief.

"Not the point here, Q," Puck points out.

She ignores that. "What did you find out?" Both guys start frowning.

"Crazy stuff. And we'll tell you, but you have to help us break the news to Berry," he replies.

Quinn sighs. "Why do I have a feeling this is something bad?"

_No shit. _

* * *

"Rache, wait up!" Finn calls out to her after Glee ends (now that Regionals are so close, they're having practice every day now). She stops and turns around to face him.

"Yes, Finn?" It's only then she realizes that Quinn, Noah, Mike, and Matt are still there, all of them exchanging looks with Finn. Confused, she turns to him. "What's going on here?" She glances between Finn and Noah. "Finn, Noah, are you two—"

"That's another story; I'll tell you about it when we get home. But for now, we need to talk to you about something," Quinn starts very seriously as Finn ushers Rachel closer to the group. "But before we do, I hope you'll keep an open mind about—"

"Cut to the chase, Q," Noah cuts in, and turning to Rachel, he flatly says, "It's about that Jesse kid. He's playing you."

_For heaven's sake, not this again. _"Come on, guys, we already talked about this. I know you don't like him, but I trust Jesse. He's in Vocal Adrenaline, yes, but he wouldn't stoop that low."

"But he is!" Matt exclaims. "Look, Rachel, we're sorry, but we're not kidding. He's just using you to get information."

Rachel folds her arms; this game is getting old. "And how exactly do you know that?"

They all glance at each other before Mike holds out his videocamera. "Me, Matt, Finn, and Puck followed Jesse last Saturday. Look, we have video proof and every—"

"You _spied_ on him?" she exclaims in disbelief and rising anger. "How could you do something like that? What if you had gotten caught, what if—do you all really think I'm that desperate for a relationship that I'd stay with someone that I know is just using me?"

They all wince at that, but Finn says, "Look Rachel, there was something not right about that guy; all of us could see it. We just wanted to make sure that he wasn't just messing around and—"

"Do you all trust me that little?" she says in a quiet, hurt voice. "Do you really think that just because he's my boyfriend that I'm going to tell him everything about Regionals? I haven't said a thing to him, and he doesn't push me. He's not going to ruin our chances, I won't let that happen, and I am upset to realize that you all still have such little faith in me."

"It's not about Regionals," Noah suddenly says, an unreadable expression on his face.

_That_ makes her stop, and now, she's just more confused than ever. "What? What do you—"

They glance uneasily at each other, like they don't know how to say what they want to next, but Noah grabs the videocam from Mike's hand and thrusts it towards Rachel. "Just watch that and see for yourself."

"Fine," she huffs, grabbing the videocam and pressing play. The sooner she gets this over with, the better.

* * *

_"Alright everybody, take a break. Be back in 20. Jesse, meet me backstage, I want to talk to you," the Vocal Adrenaline coach calls out and from where they're hiding in the seats, the four of them grin. Finally, after hell-knows-how-many-hours-of-waiting, they are getting somewhere. _

_Getting to the backstage is a bitch. They're almost seen at least 4 times (who knew the damn place was so far?), especially Finn with his freakish height. "Dude, we suck at this," Mike declares solemnly as Matt checks to see if the ghost is clear. Puck just glares at him because, _no shit, Chang.

_When they finally reach the backstage, Jesse and his coach are already there, so they sneak behind the giant props and hide there. From where they're at, they're close enough to see and hear the conversation. Not perfectly, but the words are understandable. Awesome._

Good thing you two aren't talking in an office. _"Start filming," he hisses to Mike._

_"Already on it," he replies, holding the videocam to get a good recording. They've started talking again, so they all do nothing else but listen. _

"_Onto item no.2, Jesse. You were two minutes late to rehearsal today," the woman says, and Puck's eyes widen a bit because _holy shit_, the Vocal Adrenaline coach looks freakishly like an older, snappier version of Rachel Berry. What the hell?_

"_Actually, it was a minute and fifty-four seconds," Jesse points out._

"_That's not the point!" she exclaims. "Whenever we have Saturday rehearsal, you used to be an hour and a half early every time. Where were you?" _

"_I got caught in a bit of traffic, Ms. Corcoran," he explains with an eye-roll. "With all due respect, you're being too paranoid."_

"_Regionals are in a few weeks, you of all people need to be on top of your game at all times," she replies, hands on hips. _

_He shakes his head. "I have to say it again, Miss Corcoran, you have nothing to be worried about with Regionals. Our competition is…soft. Too amateur. They want to win, but don't fully understand just how big a competition they're up against. Also, there's some conflict within the club, so they're not totally united. And regardless of their setlist or performances, they'll never be able to compare to the ones we'll produce anyway. They're…cute; we're spectacular. Plus, they're disorganized. They're not really much of a threat to us."_

Aha,_ Puck thinks triumphantly. _Got ya.

"_Dude, you got that, right?" he whispers to Mike, who nods. "I knew he was just spying on us." _

_Miss Corcoran frowns though, and folds her arms. "You don't need to tell me that, Jesse, we don't need to spy on our competition to know that we're going to win this. That is not the job I assigned you to."_

_The four of them exchange looks. _Wait, what?

_In a different tone of voice, Ms. Corcoran suddenly asks, "How is she? Was she with you today?"_

_He shakes her head again. "She's okay; nervous about Regionals and upset that her friends don't trust her dating me—can't say I blame them—but she's otherwise fine. Rachel and I didn't make plans today; she knows I have rehearsal. She even wrote and highlighted it on her daily planner. Sometimes, Miss Corcoran, your daughter is just like you."_

_Mike almost drops the videocamera. Did he just say…_daughter?_ Rachel? And this batshit-crazy woman in front of them? _

Daughter?

_Whhhaaaatttt?_

_Ms. Corcoran sighs and leans on the nearby wall and weirdly enough, this is the first time she looks human. "You must think I'm pathetic, don't you? Getting a high school boy to spy on Rachel for me."_

"_If I may be so blunt, yes, it's kinda pathetic," Jesse replies. "But I guess it's understandable too. And it's not as much of a chore, dating her. She's not really my type and she can be annoying and self-centered most of the time, but so am I. Just out of curiosity though, Miss; why now? You've been in Lima for the past few years."_

"_I lost touch with her fathers after Rachel's eighth birthday—just didn't want to know anymore about her. I thought it would be easier—I mean, she wasn't even mine to begin with. But after I saw her during the Invitational a few weeks ago, and you told me about her, and I just…" she sighs, then laughs. "I can't believe I'm talking with you about this; you're just a kid."_

"_You did ask me to date her so I could tell you stuff about her," he points out._

"_Point taken," she nods. "Get out of here, Jesse. You still have a few minutes of break time left; don't waste it."_

* * *

Rachel stares into the now-blank screen, expressionless. Her body feels frozen up, like she doesn't quite know what to do or say, and her mind is empty, save for one word: _mom._

Here's another Rachel Berry tidbit you might be interested to know: She thinks about her mother more often that she lets on. Her dads are amazing and wonderful and she loves them immensely but she's always wondered what it was like to have a real mom. When she was younger, she'd asked her dads about her of course, and they'd always been direct with her, telling her what she wanted to know. She knew that her mother was also talented, and Rachel had gotten her voice from her. But she'd stopped asking when she grew older, thinking that she was better off appreciating what the woman had given her instead of lamenting her loss.

But this…

She's been in Lima all this time. In the same town and…Rachel didn't even know it. It stirs up thoughts and dreams that she thought she'd successfully suppressed, feelings that she thought she'd come to terms with a long time ago and she feels it, that small ache in her chest that she used to get when she thought about her mom.

Rachel can dimly hear someone calling out her name and taking out the videocam from her hands, but it doesn't register, not really. "I look so much like her," she whispers, staring at the wall and it feels so _strange_.

Her mother is real, and she's here. And she's the coach of their fiercest competition at Regionals.

(The irony of the situation isn't lost on her.)

Rachel always thought she'd be rooted into the moment when something life-changing happened. But she doesn't feel connected to anything, like she's just jumped out of her own skin. Time moves in slow, fragmented pieces that are starting to make no sense, flashes and increments that taste bitter and hurt so much more than she could've ever thought possible.

She's always had this fear in the back of her mind that Jesse was just using her; dating her so he could gather information about Regionals. But…_no_. She'd been wrong about, well, everything. Granted, Jesse was playing her, but he wasn't spying on New Directions.

He was spying on _her_….for her _mother_.

It's all just too much, and no song can help fix it or describe what she's feeling right now, so Rachel does exactly what any self-respecting, admittedly self-absorbed diva/teenager would do in this situation.

She runs.


	18. Chapter 18

**A.N: **Well, this has been an exhausting couple of days.

Apologies for not getting this out sooner—my mom got admitted to the hospital last week and since my dad had to go to the office, I've been staying with her. And after she got out, I've been busy creating a scrapbook for my friend's 18th birthday, so yeah…hardly any time to write. Still, I hope this makes up for the wait. The aftermath of a potentially life-changing event is never easy to write, and this might be a tad too dramatic, so as always, constructive criticism is very welcome.

As always, thank you for the lovely reviews I got for the last chapter! I know I've said this repeatedly, but you guys are seriously awesome. Read, review, and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** (I really need to remember to add this in every chapter) Nope, still don't own anything.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Eighteen **

She doesn't get any farther than the hallway before Noah catches up with her. "Hey, Berry," he mutters, fingers circling her wrist. She struggles against his grip. "_Rachel_. Come on, stop."

The place is pretty much empty now; it's just her and Noah, and with a defeated sigh, she stops moving and leans her head against a random locker. As he lets go of her, from the corner of her eye, she can see Finn, Quinn, Matt, and Mike walking towards them.

"You okay, Rache?" Mike asks with a worried look.

Matt promptly smacks him on the head. "Does she look like she's okay? Stupid question, dude."

Quinn, who looks concerned—and strangely enough, angry—turns to them with a dangerous glare. "I haven't yelled at both of you yet today, so don't get me started."

"Look, Rachel, we're sorry you had to find out like this," Finn says awkwardly. "But we thought you should know. We couldn't just keep it to ourselves; not something this major."

"I know, Finn," she says quietly. "I'm just…overwhelmed. I don't understand what I'm feeling right now and…" Her voice trails off and she sighs again.

"Hey, do you want to get something eat?" Mike suggests. "You know, take your mind off things for awhile? It was a pretty big blow we gave you earlier."

Rachel gives them all a weak smile. She appreciates what they're trying to do, but… "Sweet as the offer is, Mike…you all should get going. It's getting late and I'm sure you have other things to do. I just really want to go home and be by myself for awhile."

"You sure you really wanna be alone, Berry?" Noah asks. "You might do something crazy."

She glares at him. "I'm sorry, do I look like I'm about five seconds away from jumping off a building?"

He shrugs. "With you, we never really know." He gives her a grin though, which turns into a yelp of pain as Quinn steps on his foot. Strangely enough, it eases a tiny fraction of the tension in her bones, but she promises herself that someday, she's going to have a talk with Noah about his unusual sense of humor.

"I'm serious. You should go. I'll be fine," she tells them, forcing a smile to her face; it doesn't feel right. "No offense, but I really don't feel like having company right now."

They all glance at each other, then at Rachel, and for the first time, she feels uncomfortable in the spotlight. She's tired, so tired, and all she wants to do is lie in bed and think. "If you're sure, Rachel," Finn says doubtfully.

They all look reluctant to leave, but they all nod anyway. "Call us if you need anything," Mike says as he, Finn, and Matt begin walking away.

"And when in doubt, Puck, just shut up!" Matt calls out, and both of them watch as the three of them slowly disappear from sight.

Quinn puts a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Come on, let's go home."

* * *

"You're not gonna cry, are you?" Noah asks as he pulls out of the school parking lot. He actually looks uncomfortable. "'Cuz I don't deal with crying chicks."

"Too bad you didn't think about that before you got me pregnant," Quinn grumbles from the backseat, and Rachel has to stifle a smile at that. Silence prevails through the car as they make their way home, and Rachel resumes staring out the window.

"Shit, Berry, I'm sorry," Noah says after awhile, his tone ripe with frustration. "We just wanted to dig up some dirt on the guy, we didn't think we'd find out _this_. It's not like we could keep it from you too, and—"

"I'm not mad at you," she assures him. At his raised eyebrow, she amends, "Okay, maybe a little. But-look, can we just not talk for now? I just want to think."

"Rachel Berry doesn't want to talk? That's a first," he says with a snicker. "You know, thinking too much will hurt your brain. You should take a break. I mean, look at me: I don't get all thoughtful and shit and I still turned out awesome, didn't I?"

"Of course you did," Rachel deadpans with an eye-roll, well-versed in Noah-speak enough to know that he's trying, in his own weird way, to cheer her up. It's not enough now though, and thankfully he doesn't say anything more and they continue the car ride in silence.

When he pulls up in front of her house, Quinn immediately gets out, saying she has to pee. Rachel's fumbling with her seatbelt when Noah's hand closes over her own. The action makes her still, and they look at each other; Rachel's surprised, and Noah…well, Noah just looks like he has no idea what possessed him to do that.

"Hey," he says gruffly. "You gonna be okay?"

(She swears that sudden fluttering in her stomach is just from stress. Not butterflies.)

"I hope so," is all she says, and she musters a small smile in his direction. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, she gets out of the car and walks towards her front door, the sounds of his car going fainter and fainter as he drives off.

* * *

Dinner with her fathers is quite possibly the best acting performance Rachel Berry has ever given in her entire life.

It takes all her strength not to break and tell them right then and there. It takes all her skills to put on a smile and hope they buy it. She watches them as she eats—Dad and Daddy talking animatedly, asking Quinn and her about their days. They look tired, but happy, and Rachel thinks it wouldn't be right to tell them anything and ruin that happiness. Not now. Not until she's sure.

When dinner is over, she makes a break for her room and throws herself on her bed, breathing deeply. It's strange how, through all of this, she hasn't felt the need to cry yet. She wishes she could, though. But she _can't_. Instead, there's this big, gaping hole of nothing that's filling her insides, and a tightening feeling in her chest that makes it so hard to just _breathe_. And yes, the emptiness—it's killing. So she wants to cry, because she figures that maybe letting it out will take the pain away. Anything else would be better than _this_.

But the tears don't come. And she's stuck with the hollowness, as well as the silence. She hates it.

(And while she stares at the ceiling, at this moment, she hates her mother. Hates her for not giving Rachel a chance to know her, hates her for giving her these feelings that hurt far too much to be considered normal, hates her for letting Rachel miss a woman she doesn't even know.

She hates her mother. Except she doesn't. The world's still refusing to make sense.)

"What are you doing?" Without looking up, she can sense Quinn moving into her bedroom, and a few seconds later, the mattress dips and Quinn's sitting beside her. "Hey. Rachel. I'm talking to you."

"Sorry," she hastily says, bringing herself up into a sitting position. "I usually sing or do ballet when I'm stressed, but I'm not sure if there's a song or a routine that'll fully express what I'm feeling now, so…"

"So you're staring at the ceiling instead? Right," Quinn replies with an eyebrow raised. A pause, and she asks slowly, "Why didn't you tell your dads?"

Rachel sighs; she was expecting this. "I don't want to upset them, I—they're always honest with me, but this topic is kind of a touchy subject for us. And I want to know more before I talk with them." She lets out a frustrated sigh. "I can't handle this. Regionals are more or less in two weeks—I do not need this added stress!"

Quinn doesn't say anything for awhile. "Well," she finally says, somewhat slowly. "What do you want to do now?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to meet your mom or something?" Quinn asks, gaze questioning. "I mean, now that you know she's just in the same town…"

Rachel thinks about that for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know. I mean, I've always wanted to know her, and now I know how close she is, but I—I'm not even entirely sure that it's fully sunk in yet. All I know is that I want answers, but, at the same time…I'm scared of what I might find out."

"You're afraid you might not like the reason why she gave you up?" Quinn asks softly.

Rachel sighs, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. "It's silly, I know. I mean, she was never supposed to keep me anyway, but I just—I guess I just want to know if I she wonders about me, about how I grew up. I want to know if I meant more to her than just some way to earn money."

Quinn regards her silently, her hands coming up to rest on her stomach. "I'm scared too, you know," the blonde says quietly after what feels like a long while. "I can't raise this baby. Even with Puck's help, even with everyone's help…I'm still sixteen, and I can't give her the life she deserves."

"Have you and Noah—"

"We talked about it a few times, nothing in-depth though," she says. "He's not happy with it, but he agreed to adoption. It's the only way we can give her a good life, but…" She takes a deep breath. "I love her. I thought that I could detach myself but I love her already, and I know it makes me sound like a coward but that's the reason why I'm giving her up. But I'll always wonder. Even if we decide on an open adoption, I'll always wonder."

She brushes a few stray tears away. "I guess what I'm saying is…no matter the circumstance, even if it's adoption or a surrogate, I think that one way or another, every woman that gives her child up will always wonder about him or her. I don't think that's something you can take away."

And honestly, Rachel feels a lump in her throat. Quinn and her mother's situation's are different, but in some ways, their position is exactly the same. "Do you think she really cares, though?" Rachel finally asks. "About me?"

Quinn thinks that over for a moment before saying, "Look, Rachel, I'll be honest. I don't like this woman much—I mean, using a high school guy to spy for her doesn't say much about her character at the moment—and I don't know what her motives are, but…I think, in a warped sort of way, she does care. She wouldn't go through all this trouble if she didn't."

"Look," the blonde adds, "I don't want you getting hurt. But whatever you decide to do next, we've all got your back."

Rachel takes a moment to look at her once-enemy, now-friend, and she's surprised by the maturity in her eyes. Then again, she's thankful for it, and before she knows what she's doing, she's hugging Quinn (which is kind of awkward because of the baby bump), finally letting out those tears she'd been holding back previously. Quinn's startled, but she hugs Rachel back all the same.

_Thank you._

* * *

The next day after school, Jesse greets her with a smile. She greets him with a slap.

To his credit, he doesn't react loudly. Still, the sound of the slap, and the image of him with a hand to his cheek—she has to admit, it's pretty gratifying. "Okay," he says very slowly. "Can I at least ask what I did to deserve that?"

"You lied to me."

"What are you talking about?

"My mother," is all she says as she gives him a long, hard look.

Slowly, comprehension dawns on his face and his expression turns guarded. "_Oh_. So you know then. How did you find out?"

Folding her arms, she says as coolly as possible, "That's not important. I have to congratulate you, though—you were a very convincing actor. UCLA will be very lucky to have you next year."

"Rachel—" He sighs and looks around; around them, it's all laughter and voices and running vehicles. "Can we get in the car so we can talk?"

_I have nothing to say to you_, is the first thing that comes to mind, but a split-second later she realizes she wants him to explain. She wants answers, and if talking to him is the only way to get it, then so be it. "Fine," she snaps, opening the door to the passenger's seat and getting in.

Inside the car, it's quiet, and neither of them is looking at each other. The tension's so thick, it's almost suffocating, but when Jesse turns to her and says, _"Rachel,"_ in that sweet, sincere way that she used to love, she realizes just how tired she is and for the first time since yesterday, she feels a lump in her throat.

"How could you do this to me?" she whispers, willing herself not to cry. She refuses to cry for him. "You knew how I felt about my mother, about not knowing who she is, and you just—you knew all along, and you didn't say a thing."

"I couldn't!" he replies defensively, and Rachel has the sudden urge to slap him again because he has no right to be defensive. "Rachel—"

"Why are you here, Jesse?" she asks him bluntly. "What was the grand plan?"

A series of looks flits across his face, before he leans against his seat. "She saw you during our Invitational, saw you talking to me on the stage. When I told her your name, she just...look, I owe her a lot, okay? Shelby's a big part of the reason why I got my full ride to UCLA. So when she told me her story and asked me to spy for her, I couldn't say no.

I was supposed to learn things about you. Then gradually put the thought of your mom back into your head. There was even a cassette tape involved. Shelby said that if you listened to it, you wouldn't be able to sleep until you found her."

"If she's been here all this time, why won't she just come to me? Why do I have to find her?" Rachel says, the ache in her chest slowly building. "Why did she have to use you to get to me?"

He's silent for awhile before shaking his head. "I don't know. She wouldn't tell me; she said she wanted to tell you yourself." He sighs, like the revelation of it all has taken a big toll on him, and Rachel doesn't know whether she's shaking from impending tears or from anger. "That's pretty much it."

"And you never even thought about how I would feel?" Rachel exclaims. "Most of my team is mad at me because of my decision to stand by you, and it turns out you were just using me all this time. Do you have any idea how—"

"Look, you were never supposed to know," Jesse says, and he does look sincere, which Rachel hates because she's the victim here, not him. "At least not until Regionals were over. She didn't want you to think you were being manipulated."

Rachel laughs at that, because the irony—or whatever it's called—is delicious and yet sickening at the same time (and yes, the universe is still refusing to make sense). "And you think that me knowing now isn't messing with my head? Even if I did find out after Regionals, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change how I feel."

They both don't say anything for awhile, and silence is so uncomfortable that Rachel breaks it. "What…what did she want to know about me?" she asks after awhile. "What kinds of questions did she ask?"

"She wanted to know what music you liked, what dreams you had," he says. "Wanted to know what food you liked, what hobbies you had…" He pauses. "Mostly she just wanted to know if you were happy."

She lets that information swirl in her head, but instead of being appeased, she now has even more questions, and the funny feeling in her chest won't go away. Right then and there, she decides what she wants to do.

Rachel looks at him directly; it's funny, really, how one revelation has made him seem so different to her. "Take me to her. I want to meet her myself."

Jesse shakes his head incredulously. "Rachel, no. That's not a good idea, I don't think it's—"

"What?" she challenges. "You don't think it's the right time? You don't get to decide that anymore, Jesse. If you won't take me to her, then I'll find a way to meet her myself." She gives him one more hard look. "Take me to her. You owe me at least that much."

Jesse looks at her, for the first time looking genuinely conflicted. His eyes are darting around the place, as though looking for a way out, but in the end, he takes a look at Rachel's resolute glance, sighs with defeat, and starts the engine.


	19. Chapter 19

**A.N: **Wow, it's been awhile.

First of all, a big apology to everyone who's been reading this for not updating sooner. These past few weeks have been hectic, what with finishing our group novel to give as a gift for our friend's debut and getting ready for the start of school. Sophomore year of college is starting in two days so yeah, I've been pretty busy prepping and will probably be busy once formal classes start. Hopefully, this chapter makes up for the wait.

Also, fair warning: Although the plotline of this story has currently coincided with the plotline of the actual show, don't be surprised to see some of the actual dialogue on the show here. However, I'm not going to be following everything that's happened since the Shelby/Rachel drama broke—for the sake of the story, there are some stuff I need to tweak, some dialogue that needs to be rearranged, stuff like that.

On another random note, how amazing was the Journey episode, guys? I cried like a baby, no joke.

So yeah, I guess that's it. Thanks for the amazing people who reviewed the last chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine. Even some of the dialogue isn't mine. Just putting it out there.

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Nineteen**

He takes her to the auditorium. Vocal Adrenaline's still having practice, he tells her, so unless the world got turned upside-down, this is where Shelby Corcoran is supposed to be.

Shelby Corcoran. Her mother.

It still feels so weird to consider her that.

They're near the entrance of the auditorium now when music starts to play and Rachel pauses for a moment. She knows this song—she's internalized it so many times she could do it in her sleep: It's Funny Girl, and whoever is singing it has a phenomenal voice, full of quiet but strong emotion.

And then she sees who's singing. It's more or less like looking into a mirror, only older.

(Her breath catches.)

Dimly she can hear Jesse calling out her name, but it's almost completely lost around the loud thumping of her heart. Her feet are moving of their own volition, gravitating towards the voice and the woman, and Rachel walks, almost transfixed as she realizes that she's seeing her mother for the first time.

It's a surreal experience, like she's not quite sure what she's doing but has no power or desire to stop herself. From the corner of her eye, she can see Vocal Adrenaline members staring at her (probably wondering who this crazy girl who's walking to the stage is, no doubt), but she lets her gaze focus only on _her_.

_Funny girl…_

As her voice trails away, someone speaks and it takes a second to realize that it's her that's doing the talking. "Miss Corcoran?"

The woman turns at the sound of her name, and Rachel finds herself staring into the eyes of the woman who'd given her life. "I'm Rachel Berry," she continues, hoping her voice doesn't falter and her body doesn't betray the fact that it's shaking.

"I'm your daughter."

* * *

So.

Her first meeting with her mom doesn't go at all like she thought it would.

In her mind, it always played out like this: They'd look into each other's eyes and feel that full rush of emotion, and slowly but surely, they would run into each other's arms and cry for all the time lost and for finding each other now. They'd instantly feel that…bond that connected mother and daughter, that kind of instinct that felt like this—this was right, this was how it should be.

The reality is different. Apparently, her own fantasies of how their reunion would go mirrored what Shelby—she can't even bear to call her 'mom' at the moment, it's too weird—thought would happen too, so Rachel guesses that they've both been disappointed. Practice is cut short, and now, it's just the two of them in an otherwise empty auditorium, sitting a row and a few seats apart, determinedly not looking at each other.

(She feels a lump in her throat and a sinking in her stomach. She doesn't know how she should feel, but she's pretty sure this isn't it.)

"Why did you do it?" Rachel asks, still not looking at her.

Shelby sighs. "Your dads, they put up an ad in the paper, and I needed money to live in New York, jumpstart a career—"

"I know all about that already," Rachel interrupts, trying not to feel hurt. She'd at least been secure in the knowledge that she'd been wanted, that she wasn't just the product of some tramp's irresponsibility, that she'd been _planned_—but even though she knows this part of the story already, it still stings to hear that the woman had agreed to have her for monetary compensation only.

"What I want to know is…why did you do all this—send Jesse, create this whole plan? You knew I was here the whole time. Why didn't you just come find me yourself?" This time, she looks at Shelby, willing her to answer.

Shelby looks away but answers her question. "I signed a contract," she finally replies, and Rachel blinks, because she didn't know _that_. "I can't contact you until you turn eighteen. You had to come find me."

"Then why didn't you just wait? When did you realize that now was the right time?" she asked. "I mean, I'll be eighteen in two years." _'You've already waited this long' _goes unsaid.

Shelby gives a short, broken laugh. "I saw you sing at Sectionals. You were extraordinary—you were _me_."

Sectionals. It's amazing how that one event became a catalyst for so many other things.

Looking determinedly at her feet, Rachel asks, "Was it hard for you to not become a star, to not have your dreams come true?"

"It felt like a broken promise," Shelby replies, and for some reason, her voice is far-away, like she's imagining stages and applause that'll never happen now. "Like the Fisher King's wound. It never heals."

In spite of herself, Rachel has to smile a bit at that. "Wow," she says. "Genetics really are amazing. You see the world with the same fierce theatricality as I do. Even the way we're sitting right now feels so dramatic yet we're so comfortable with it." Neither of them say anything after that, and slowly, the comfort slips into awkward, almost painful silence.

She almost dreads having to ask this question, but Rachel wants to fill the tense silence. Mostly, she just wants to know. "Did you ever regret it? Giving me up?"

"Yes," the woman says and Rachel feels something twist in her chest. "Then no…then so much."

(She doesn't know what to make of that just yet.)

"I've missed so much," Shelby says with a catch in her voice before turning to her. "How—how do _you_ feel?"

"Thirsty," Rachel says without thinking. At her puzzled look, she quickly explains, "When I was little and I used to get sad, my dads would bring me a glass of water. It got so that I couldn't tell if I was sad or just thirsty."

(She also doesn't know what to make of that flash of hurt she sees in her mother's eyes, either.)

A series of conflicting emotions pass through her face as she leans back in her seat. Rachel looks up when Shelby stands. "I shouldn't have done this," she says, and the twisting in Rachel's chest gets slightly worse. "This is supposed to feel good, you know? We're supposed to have this slow-motion, run-into-each-other's-arms kind of thing. This…this is all wrong."

(She doesn't know if Shelby's trying to convince Rachel or herself.)

Shelby's picking up her bag and it takes her a split-second to realize she's about to leave. _No_. "Maybe we could just…go to dinner or something. You know, just to get over the initial shock?"

Please say yes. _Please_.

(It's strange, but it takes seeing her mother leave to realize that in some way, she wants her in her life. Even just a little.)

Shelby doesn't look like she knows what to say or do. "I'll call you," she promises. "I'll get your number from Jesse, and I'll call you. But not right now. I'm so sorry."

Rachel bites her lip to keep the tears from falling, but she nods her head and watches as her mother walks away from her. She wants to yell, she wants to, pathetic as it is, tell her to come back, she wants to get angry at her. Angry for turning her back on her again, for letting Jesse break her heart, for putting her through this emotional roller-coaster.

And here's the kicker: It's horrible, but she can't even be angry at her for not wanting to talk now, because in a way, she understands where she's coming from. Rachel's not even sure _she's_ ready to have a full conversation over dinner, not right now when she still hasn't fully absorbed the whole truth. They aren't in a TV show—this is real life, and in real life, it takes _time_.

(She just wishes it didn't hurt this much.)

Someone lays a hand on her arm, and she turns to see Jesse. "She will call, you know," he assures her. As if that's going to do any good now. "She will. She's just shocked."

She wishes her friends were here with her. Someone who could talk to her and tell her it was going to be okay. But there's no one but Jesse around, and he's trying his best to look friendly, and Rachel thinks that sometimes, she has to take what she can get.

"Just take me home," she says softly.

* * *

They don't say a word during the car ride back. Jesse's too busy keeping his eyes on the road and Rachel's too busy staring out the window. It's dark out now, and when she bothers checking her phone, she can see a multitude of texts and voicemails from Quinn, but she just slips her cell phone back into her bag. She's not really feeling up to explaining right now.

The porch lights are glowing brightly by the time he pulls up in front of her house. She doesn't move to leave yet, though, and after killing the engine, he just sits there and stares ahead. If it had been other people, this whole situation would've been entirely too dramatic, but it's Rachel and it's Jesse, two future stars, and honestly, it doesn't feel dramatic in the slightest. It just feels like them.

"We're done," she tells him in a monotone, not even bothering to look at him.

Which is fine, because he doesn't look at her, either. "I know."

"You hurt me. I know it wasn't your plan, but it still happened, and I don't think I can forgive you for that just yet."

"I don't expect you to," is all he says.

She whips her head suddenly to face him. "Did you care about me? I know you were just playing a part and all of it wasn't real, but did you care? Even just a little bit?" Rachel's not sure why it's important, but she knows that she needs closure.

He doesn't say anything for awhile, but when he finally turns to her, his expression is actually sincere. "I did," he admits. "Maybe not as much as I showed, but I did care and respect you and your talents. I'm sorry it had to end this way, Rachel."

"So am I," she tells him, fumbling for the clasp on her seatbelt. And when finally meets his gaze before opening the car door, it feels a whole lot like _'goodbye'._

* * *

When Rachel enters her house, she blinks.

Quinn's sitting on the couch. With Noah. She's watching a movie. With Noah. And she looks generally relaxed and comfortable. With _Noah_.

She's pretty sure by now that the heavens are playing a cosmic joke on her. It's the only plausible explanation for why her life's been turned inside-out. True, she'd seen his car when she'd gone inside the house, but she didn't think she'd be treated to this little scene of happy friendship.

"Hey, Rachel," Quinn says. Noah just raises a hand in greeting; he's too focused on the movie. "Why are you home so late? Did you eat yet? Your dads called a couple of hours ago—they're meeting up for dinner right after work, so they'll be home pretty late."

"Hi," she murmurs, feeling robotic in her movements as she walks towards them. "I'm surprised to see you here, Noah."

"I was craving some cheese and cookies, so I called him," Quinn explains for him with a shrug. "Since he's the one who knocked me up, he might as well be good for _something_," she adds with a dramatic sigh.

"You just like the fact that I'm your bitch," he grumbles before turning to Rachel. "Hey. Where were you? You weren't at the parking lot after school and didn't answer any of Q's calls."

"I was at my dance school," she says easily, ignoring how her mind is whispering, _liar_. "I just wanted to practice a new routine. I didn't notice my phone until after. Sorry."

"No problem," he mutters, leaning back on the couch. "I just thought you'd been kidnapped by aliens or something. That would've sucked, you know, since we're so close to Regionals and everything."

She just rolls her eyes at him.

The movie's just ended, and as the credits roll, Quinn stands up slowly. "Well," she says, "I think I'm gonna head up to bed. If you're hungry, there's still some leftover pizza. Good night, you two." She punctuates her sentence with a yawn.

Even in her emotionally rattled state, Rachel isn't fooled for a second. "It's 7:30, Quinn," she points out. "Even I don't turn in this early."

"You're not pregnant," the blonde retorts, but she's grinning slightly and Rachel doesn't like it. "See you guys tomorrow." And without leaving room for argument, she waddles up the stairs, leaving Rachel and Noah alone in the living room with a box half-full of pizza and a blank TV screen.

Eyeing the box, Rachel reaches for a slice, thinking, _"Screw it."_ She doesn't eat pizza much—a few slices too many would no doubt do horrors for the figure she's trying to maintain—but she thinks she can make an exception tonight. Sitting herself on the couch, she motions Noah to sit.

"There's still some pizza left," she tells him as she grabs the remote and switches channels until she finds a movie that seems interesting. "Go on."

He just shrugs and grabs a slice before sitting beside her. They watch the movie in companionable silence (well, not really, as Noah complains every 5 minutes about how lame chick flick movies are), and there's a part of Rachel that's a little freaked by how _normal_ this whole thing feels. It's certainly a complete 180 from the events of today.

"So, you and Quinn…" she trails off, wanting to make conversation. He turns to her.

"What?"

"You two seemed happy earlier," she says, not even sure why she's opening this topic. "Comfortable in each other's—"

He held out a hand to stop her. "Don't go there, Berry. I know what you're thinking—I swear, don't go there. Me and Quinn? Never going to happen. She's carrying my kid so we'll probably be bonded forever or some kind of sentimental shit like that, but I don't like her _that_ way anymore." He shrugs. "And I'm pretty sure she's still in love with Finn, so that's that."

His tone is final, so Rachel doesn't ask further questions. She also doesn't question why his little admission makes her feel glad (just a little bit. _Only_ a little bit. Seriously), because she doesn't think she's ready to get the answer to that yet. So she just turns her attention back to the movie.

The two leads had just kissed when Noah groans, grabs the remote and turns it to ESPN. There's a basketball game on, and he gives her a triumphant smirk as he leans back against his seat.

"Noah, I was watching that movie!" she protests, trying to grab the remote back from him. When she fails, he just laughs at her.

"Tough luck, babe," is all he says. "You can watch people suck face on TV some other time, this game is epic. Or, if you want," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "We can just do it ourselves."

Rachel blushes, and if it weren't for the fact that she was too tired to lecture, she'd be having that talk with him about his strange sense of humor right now. "You're incorrigible," she huffs, but leans back in her seat. After today, it feels good to have a little semblance of normal back.

The problem with this situation is that she has more or less no clue what's going on on TV, so her attention isn't there. Instead, her mind keeps replaying everything that's happened, the feelings she'd felt when she'd seen Shelby for the first time and when she'd walked away, how it—

"I went to see my mother," Rachel blurts out suddenly. A second later, Noah's straightened in his seat, looking at her, and Rachel's cursing her lack of impulse control.

"What?" He actually turns off the TV. "What the hell are you—"

Now that she's said it, there's really no other option except to keep going with the truth. "I wasn't at the dance studio. I went with Jesse to take me to see Shelby Corcoran."

His expression darkens immediately. "You went with that ass? After all the shit he did? _Come on_, Berry. What the hell?"

She rolls her eyes. "You're missing the point here, Noah."

The expression on his face eases up, but he still doesn't look anywhere near happy. "I thought you weren't sure what you wanted to do after finding out," he says.

"I wasn't, until I talked to Jesse." She ignores the way he scowls. "It made me realize…I want answers. And who better to get them from than from the person involved herself, right?"

He definitely doesn't look happy now, but he nods. "So, uh…" He pauses for awhile. "How was it? Meeting her."

She considers the question, and a part of her is glad yet disturbed that she can actually talk about this normally. "Strange," she replies, because really, that's probably the only word she can think of that matches this whole fiasco. "It didn't feel at all like I imagined. It was like….forgetting someone, you know? You forget who a person is, and when you see them again, you have this…feeling that you know them, but you just can't remember who or why. You can't place it, and you just…you feel surprised and lost, and you hate it because you know that isn't how you're supposed to feel."

She tilts her head. "What do you think?"

He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but he shrugs. "Look Berry, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, honestly? If I ever saw my old man again, I wouldn't feel _'surprised and lost'_. I'd just feel like punching the bastard. And I'd do it, too," he adds as an afterthought.

"Oh," she says, looking down at her hands, not really knowing what else is there to say.

"So what happens now?" he asks her. "I mean, do you and your mom meet up with your dads or something?"

"I don't know," she replies, her voice a little flatter than before. "She seemed just as shocked and confused as I was. She said she'd call me." And she remembers the expression on Shelby's face, and all of a sudden a lump appears in her throat and she furiously blinks back tears.

Noah looks freaked by now. She doesn't blame him. "What if she never does? What if she decides this is all just a big mistake and—I'm sorry," she says when she notices his expression. "I'm venting. I talk a lot when I'm stressed."

"You talk a lot even when you aren't," he retorts with a grin, and tears now successfully kept at bay, she takes a pillow at hits him with it. It deflates some of the seriousness in the room, which she's thankful for. "Look, you wanna know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you've made your move. Now it's time for her to make hers. If she really wants you, she'll call and you can start playing happy family. But if she doesn't…it's _her_ loss. I'm not gonna pretend I know crap about this whole thing, but if she doesn't call, you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. I mean, come on, Rachel. You got through sixteen years of your life without her, and you turned out okay."

He pauses, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Crazy and annoying, but you know. You can be a pretty cool chick sometimes too."

Warmth floods through her. "Thanks…I think." Her head suddenly snaps up, and for possibly the first time today, she smiles. "You called me Rachel. So you do know my name, after all."

"Slip of the tongue," he says smoothly, not even bothering to deny it. He turns the TV back on, and doesn't even look that annoyed when he sees he missed the rest of the game. He just shrugs and gives her a small grin before grabbing another slice of pizza.

(And for the first time, she doesn't even deny or get worried over the fact that he's giving her butterflies yet again.)


	20. Chapter 20

**A.N: **Once again…wow. It's been a long, long time.

A big apology to everyone for not updating sooner. This would've been updated a whole lot sooner, but unfortunately life got in the way. Two months ago I got hospitalized after a high fever and seizures—apparently, I had chicken pox, but unfortunately the virus went directly to my brain. (And yes, it sucked big time.)

It's caused my life to change a bit—I had to stop university for the semester because I was gone for such a long time, my memory/concentration is terrible, and more importantly…I haven't been able to write anything. It's like my mind goes blank every time I open a new document; there are no ideas whatsoever. This chapter is pretty much a practice for me, to get myself back in the writing groove—so if it's not up to par, I apologize.

Sorry if I sound like I'm whining. Just wanted to let you guys know why I was gone for so long. Still, thank you for the wonderful response to the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Twenty**

Rachel can be the master at lying to herself sometimes, but even she can't deny that this situation right here, right now is very, very bad. Her eyes are darting back and forth between them, a bright, if not fake smile on her face that she hopes will ease even a miniscule fraction of the tension.

It doesn't work.

None of them are looking at Rachel, no, they're all much too busy looking at each other. It's awkward and weird and so very wrong and most definitely not what their first meeting should be like. (And this, folks, is where she becomes a 100% certain that the universe is playing some sort of cosmic joke on her.)

"So," she says brightly, eyes darting between Shelby, who looks like she's seen a ghost, and her two dads, one of whom looks like he's going to pass out, "I guess Lima really is a small town, isn't it?"

(She lets the tape in her mind rewind to when this all started, and presses play. Let the madness begin.)

* * *

_"Hey," she says, approaching Noah by his locker that day with a smile. He's stuffing things in his locker, but he nods at her in passing. "I need you to do me a favor."_

_He shuts his locker and turns to her with a grin. "If it involves you, me, and no clothes, then I'm in."_

_She rolls her eyes. "In your dreams," she deadpans, folding her arms. "It's about Friday night. I was wondering if you could stay with Quinn for the evening? My dads are going out to dinner and since I won't be home either, she'll be alone. She keeps saying that she doesn't need anyone looking after her, but since she's pretty much eight months pregnant now, my dads and I aren't really comfortable leaving her by herself."_

_He nods. "Sure," he says, then pauses. Raising an eyebrow, he adds, "Wait, you have plans on Friday?"_

_Rachel can't even be bothered to stop the large grin from stretching across her face. "Shelby called me last night and asked if I wanted to meet up and talk. We're having dinner on Friday night."_

_The expression on his face is unreadable. It makes her smile dim slightly. "Noah?" she prods, giving him an expectant look. "What do you think?"_

_"Why the hell are you asking me that? Look, you've been waiting your whole life to meet this chick, and if you want to, you should go for it," he says with a shrug. They have Glee next, so they begin walking to the choir room together._

_"Do your dads know you're meeting her?"_

_"No," Rachel shakes her head, but she's smiling again—she's too excited to be worried. "I mean, it's not exactly something I can just drop in the middle of dinner—'By the way, dad, daddy, I'm meeting Shelby, my birth mother, for dinner on Friday. Please pass the salad.'"_

_She laughs then, ignoring Noah's eye-roll. "They would freak if they found out I was doing this. They don't even know we've found each other yet. I just…" she turns serious then, "I want to make sure that this is right, that this is…_real_, you know? I just want to be sure that it's worth lying to and hurting my dads over."_

_He doesn't say anything, and Rachel studies the expression on his face. It's opaque (it's ridiculous how different they are sometimes. He's unreadable, and she's practically an open book), with just a hint of a frown there somewhere, and when he finally opens his mouth to speak, she prepares herself, knowing full well that he's probably going to try and talk her out of it._

_"I guess the only way you'll know if it's worth it or not is if you try it," he says with a shrug as they approach the door to the choir room. "But Quinn and I are gonna keep our phones on during Friday. You know, just in case."_

_He says it nonchalantly, and he's purposely not looking at her, but Rachel beams at him. She's pretty sure he's not a 100% on board with her meeting Shelby, but he's not trying to stop her and he's just made it clear that he's got her back whatever happens._

_The fluttering in her stomach starts again (it's also ridiculous how often this keeps happening; isn't there an off button somewhere?), and for some reason it's completely different to how she felt about Jesse and even Finn. For some crazy, unexplainable reason, it's actually _stronger _(which of course, is ridiculous, because this is Noah Puckerman, she's talking about here—he's her friend, and he's crass and emotionally stunted sometimes and he doesn't even call her by her first name, for goodness sake.)_

_She can't figure him out sometimes. But the fluttering is there, it won't stop, and if she's being completely honest with herself, there's a part of her (a small, miniscule part, but it's there) that isn't quite sure if she really wants it to._

_Rachel Berry is heading into dangerous territory here._

_(And above everything else, it's ridiculous how that fact doesn't scare her as much as she thought it would.)_

* * *

_When Rachel sees Shelby's ear-to-ear grin they moment they meet at the restaurant, she thinks this might not be a mistake after all._

_They decide to meet at a little Italian place downtown. Rachel loves the food there, and surprisingly so does Shelby (see? They even like the same food), so they'd settled on that place. It's not too crowded, considering it's a Friday night, and they're seated at a cozy corner where they can talk._

_"Thank you for meeting me, Rachel," Shelby says as they sit. "I wasn't sure you wanted to…you know, after I was such an idiot the first time we met."_

_"I've been wanting to meet you my whole life," Rachel confesses. "Why would I pass up this opportunity?" It's still quite awkward and surreal—she can't believe she's having _dinner _with her _mother_—but they manage to work around it and talk about…well, anything and everything._

_"So," Shelby says, and she actually looks so excited that Rachel forgets that this is the same woman who strikes fear into the hearts of Vocal Adrenaline members every day. "Tell me about yourself."_

_Rachel laughs. "What do you want to know?"_

_"Everything! Come on—favorite food, favorite musical, anything you want to share." They end up playing Twenty Questions (well, not really, but she's lost count how many questions they really asked each other), and it's amazing how similar they are. As they talk, Rachel feels like her heart's going to be ripped out of her chest, but in a good way—her mother is witty and beautiful and smart and while they're not completely comfortable with each other to spill their more personal stories yet, there's still plenty of time for that._

_This moment, right here—this is enough for now._

_They're so caught up in talking and laughing in their own little bubble that she doesn't notice anyone walking towards them. "Rachel?" a surprised, very familiar voice says suddenly. Both Rachel and Shelby look up to see who it is—and freeze._

_Joseph and Alan Berry are staring right at them, their faces registering pure shock as they take in the sight of Rachel…and Shelby. Rachel can practically see the wheels in their heads turning—they might be a surgeon and a lawyer respectively, but even anyone with enough common sense and knowledge of the past could take one look at the two women and immediately grasp what's going on. Rachel and Shelby stand, the former's heart thudding in her chest in a manner that's not at all comfortable._

_"Dad, daddy," she says shakily. "What—what are you doing here? I thought you had reservations somewhere else."_

_"We decided to eat here instead," her dad—that would be Joseph; he's a tall African-American who gives the best hugs in the world, but Rachel doubts he'd want to hug her right now—says in a far-away voice. Beside him, her daddy Alan suddenly clutches her dad's arm, the color draining from his cheeks._

_"What is going on here?" her dad asks, looking like he's struggling to remain calm. Beside him, her daddy looks at Shelby before whispering to his husband, "Is that really—"_

_"Hello Alan, Joseph," Shelby says, attempting to be cheerful, but her smile is strained and her posture is as still and awkward as the tension that's descended upon the table._

_"So," Rachel says, her voice high-pitched and bright, trying not to betray the fact that her heart feels like it's sunk into her stomach then rose back up again, "I guess Lima really is a small town, isn't it?"_

_Rachel doesn't swear, and normally doesn't condone swearing, but perhaps it's because this situation is a whole new level of crazyweirdwrong disaster, or perhaps it's because she's been spending way too much time with Noah Puckerman lately, there is only one thought that's currently running through her mind, repeating itself like a twisted version of a mantra:_

FML.

* * *

Back to the present: All things considered, it's surprisingly not that bad a night.

Of course, it's terribly awkward, and judging from the way her dads keep glancing at her, she knows they're going to have a very, very long talk once they get home. Rachel has to give Shelby credit though—she's definitely uncomfortable, but she holds her own and is completely honest. Her dads join them for dinner, and the whole story comes spilling out, how Shelby found out about Rachel, how they met, and about the fact that Shelby can't have more children. Rachel can't decipher her dads' expressions—they're usually very easy to read, but this is a sensitive topic, after all.

They don't say anything after the admission, and dinner is mostly a silent affair. It's only when the dishes are cleared and they order dessert that someone speaks up. "Look, Shelby, I'm just going to go right out and ask," her dad Joseph says bluntly. "What exactly do you want with Rachel?"

The woman doesn't even think about it. "I just want to get to know her," she says honestly. "Listen, I get that you guys are her parents, I do. That was the agreement from the beginning, and I'm not going to take her away from you. I just want a chance with her."

"And what happens when you decide you don't want to do this anymore?" her daddy Alan interjects, looking at Shelby critically. You really can't tell, judging from how small he is, that he's one of the brightest, shrewdest minds in the state. "What happens if you move, or get married, or simply decide that it's not worth the trouble? The only one who'll end up getting hurt is Rachel, and I don't ever want that to happen. We kept you out for a reason."

"I don't want to hurt her," Shelby replies candidly. "I can't promise that I'll stay in Lima forever and I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the way, some part of my life is going to change, but I'm not going to sacrifice Rachel for that. I wouldn't go through all that trouble if I wasn't serious about this." She gives Rachel a sideways glance and smiles.

"Daddies," Rachel cuts in, using her best I'm-your-only-daughter-and-you-love-me voice, "I know you're disappointed that I didn't tell you the truth, but I really wanted this. I'm old enough to handle whatever might happen, and I need to start making my own choices. I love you—both of you, so much—but I'm not a little girl anymore."

There's some hurt and disappointment in their features and it breaks her heart to see it, but she says nothing else. She watches as her dads look at each other (it's a thing they do, as if they're having a conversation just by doing that). Eventually, the both of them lean back in their chairs.

"As much as we hoped this would happen under more desirable circumstances, the fact is that you two know each other now," her daddy says, a note of resignation in his voice. "And if it's what you really want, Rachel, then we'd be selfish to deprive you of the one thing we've never been able to give."

They both look dejected, and Rachel bites her lip. She should be happy that they're agreeing to this, but she can't take seeing her dads this way. She wants to hug them, tell them that they were amazing to her, and that they're enough for her, but she knows that last part isn't entirely true. You can call her selfish and ungrateful all you want, but the fact remains that as wonderful having a father—two, even—is, sometimes, a girl just needs her mother.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says. "I don't like seeing you two sad, but it's just—"

"You don't have to explain, Rachel. We both knew this day would come eventually. We just hoped it would be much later," her dad says with a sigh. He turns to Shelby. "We will let you see her, but just remember, if you hurt her in any way—"

"I understand," Shelby says, nodding. A slow smile blooms on her face. "Thank you."

They set up some ground rules: they're allowed to meet whenever, but her dads need to know first before Rachel leaves the house. She still has to observe curfew, and her grades aren't allowed to slip. The four of them end up talking until the restaurant's closing time: they tell Rachel the story of how they met, share stories of her childhood, things like that. It's only until the manager tells them very politely that they're about to close do they stop and decide to head for home, with Shelby promising to call Rachel soon.

Outside the restaurant, Rachel hugs them both tightly before they get into the car. "Thank you," she tells them with a big smile before getting into the back seat. Just like her friends, they don't like the idea of this messed-up situation too much, but they're willing to accept it and support her decision. And that, she knows, is why she's sure she's never loved her parents more than she does now.

The drive home is silent, but it's not that uncomfortable anymore, and Rachel feels like a huge weight's been lifted from her shoulders. Of course, she would've preferred telling her parents herself, in her own time, but what's happened has happened, and there's no changing that. It's simply time to move forward.

* * *

It's been an exhausting day, alright. When Rachel enters the living room of her house, she finds Noah watching TV on the couch. "Hi," she says with a smile.

"Hey. Quinn turned in early. Said she was tired," he says, raising a hand in greeting. "So, how was it?" Before she gets to answer, her dads enter the living room, causing Noah to hastily turn the TV off and stand. She can feel his eyes on her (probably giving her a _'what-the-hell?'_ sort of look), and she looks at him and mouths, _"Later."_

"Hello, Noah," her dad greets with a smile.

"Thank you for looking after Quinn this evening," her daddy adds.

Rachel has one dad on each side, and she has to bite back a smile as Noah says as respectfully as possible, "Evening, Misters Berry. Uh, you're home now, so I guess I'm just gonna go. Thanks for the food and stuff."

"I'll walk you to your car," Rachel says, holding back a laugh as she follows Noah out of the living room and into the foyer. Her fathers warn her to come back right away—they still have plenty to talk about. Noah moves quickly, like he can't get out fast enough, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

(Despite the fact that they aren't dating, she's pretty sure Noah's a bit terrified of dad and daddy—although she has a sneaking suspicion he's more wary of dad. She'd asked him about it before, wondering why he suddenly turned so respectful the moment her dads came home, and he'd told her, "Dude, dads hate me—and you have _two_ of them." Both her fathers think it's hilarious.)

The moment they step outside, Rachel leans her body against the wall and sighs. "Berry, what the hell happened?" he asks, eyebrow raised. She gives him a Cliff Notes version of tonight's events, and once she's finished, he whistles.

"Wow," he says with a thoughtful look on his face. "That's like, one messed up version of a double date." She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm. Giving her a look, he asks, "So now that the shit's hit the fan…what's next?"

Rachel shrugs. "I'm not entirely sure. I mean, we're allowed to see each other and stuff and there are no secrets anymore, but…for now we just want to catch up on the sixteen years we've missed out on. We're just taking it one day at a time right now, to see how it goes."

"Cool," he replies shoving his hands in his pockets. "Listen, I gotta go. I'll talk to you tomorrow or something."

"Yeah," Rachel says with a nod. "Thanks again."

"What for?" he asks, confused, before shaking his head and putting a hand on her shoulder. (Cue butterflies. She's this close to giving up hope of finding an off switch.) "You'll be alright, Berry," he tells her, and although she's not that sure what he means by that, she smiles at him all the same.

And as she watches him speed away, she mulls it over and realizes that he's probably right.


	21. Chapter 21

**A.N:** Hey guys! Sorry if this is late, I got busy creating gifts for my two friends who were having birthdays on the same day. Before I launch into something, let me just say thanks again for everyone's great response to the last chapter! It really makes me happy knowing that there are still people who read and love this story, despite it not being updated for a long time.

Before the chapter starts, I'd just like to warn you that my version of Regionals will be quite different. For one thing, the judges will not be celebrities (because no offense, I didn't really find them appropriate for a show choir competition. And also, as great as it was for dramatic effect, I didn't agree with having Rod Remington and Sue Sylvester being judges, Sue especially. To anyone who didn't know about Sue's hatred for the club-especially for the show choir committee who selects the judges-, it would seem biased and unfair to have a judge who was an educator at one of the competing schools.) As to who wins…I'll leave that question for the next chapter to answer.

There. Explanation over. Read, review, and have fun reading!

* * *

**Jigsaw Pieces**

**Chapter Twenty-one**

For quite possibly the first time since this whole mess started, Rachel's life is…well, pretty much perfect.

She has friends now—friends who, after finding out the whole story, apologized to Rachel and assured her that they were going to be supportive no matter what she decided. Her fathers still aren't completely happy, but they honor the arrangement and allow Rachel to have a relationship with her mother. And Shelby (she cant bear to call her 'mom' just yet, it's still too weird) is, for lack of a better term, awesome.

And to add to it all….Regionals are here.

It's the day she's been looking forward to since they won Sectionals. A chance to perform in front of a large audience, going toe-to-toe with two other schools who were also the best in their area, an opportunity to show everyone how talented everyone in New Directions is…it's definitely exciting.

"You guys are going to do great, Rachel," Shelby had told her one night as she was driving Rachel home. "But don't think I'm going to go easy on you during Regionals," she'd added in a teasing tone.

"Bring it," Rachel had replied with a smile, and honestly, the challenge only makes her more determined.

The day before Regionals, Mr. Schue reminds them that the agreement between him and Principal Figgins unfortunately still stands: they have to place at Regionals, or Glee club is over. But Rachel isn't worried. (Okay, maybe she is, but she swears it's only a little bit.) They've decided to do a Journey medley for the competition, and not meaning to brag, but Rachel knows it's going to be a good show. They sound amazing, and the energy during practice is always top-notch, and those who get solos sing them wonderfully. After weeks of practice, New Directions is pretty much spot-on and pitch-perfect.

(Rachel's had training since she was a little girl, so she's pretty sure she knows what she's talking about.)

After running through the numbers one last time, Mr. Schue finally dismisses them, reminding them as they leave to be here bright and early tomorrow. Rachel waits patiently by the doorway for Quinn, who's having a bit of difficulty standing (which is understandable, considering she's like, eight months pregnant now.) When she finally manages to get up, her bag falls from her lap and on to the floor.

Rachel's about to go and help her when she watches Finn, who was still packing up his things, immediately rush over and help her with her bag. "Thanks, Finn," Quinn tells him with a small, shy smile, and doesn't protest when he walks beside her as she starts to leave the room.

She leans against the wall and shuts her eyes briefly, opening them again when she realizes that she feels…absolutely _nothing_. The last time she'd seen Finn and Quinn together, it more or less broke her heart but now…there's nothing there, perhaps except for a tinge of happiness at seeing them on good terms again. There's no hurt, no jealousy, no wanting-to-sink-into-the-floor-and-cry feelings…just a strange sense of freedom, like this is the first time she's been able to breathe in so long.

And that's when it hits her.

Maybe the attraction she'd held for Finn had waned by itself after she'd realized that she would never really have him fully. Or maybe being with Jesse, and now those confusing…feelings she's having about Noah had helped in getting rid of it. Whatever it is, the point remains that as of right now, she is fully and completely over Finn Hudson.

Before she knows it, Rachel starts to smile.

"Rachel!" Quinn says suddenly with a raised eyebrow, causing Rachel to crash down to earth. Beside the blonde, Finn's staring at her oddly too. "Sorry I took so long. We'd better go—Puck's waiting in the parking lot."

As she nods, Finn jerks his thumb in the direction of the hallway. "I gotta go. See you tomorrow, guys!" he says with his usual charming smile (and her heart doesn't jump when she sees it. Yep, definitely over him now.) He waves at them as he begins walking away, and as he disappears down the hallway, Quinn turns back to Rachel.

"You okay, Rache?" the blonde asks as they begin walking to the parking lot.

Rachel considers the question for a moment before giving her friend a large smile. "You know what? I've never been better."

* * *

It's today. Regionals are today.

Rachel doesn't know whether to scream from nervousness or jump from excitement.

They're in the dressing room, all gussied up and ready to perform in their black and gold outfits. The group's set to perform second, and as they listen to the competition over the speakers, Rachel can see their faces beginning to fall and the excitement slip.

Okay, so Aural Intensity is pretty good. There's no use denying it.

"Look, you guys, can't get distracted by what the other teams are doing," Rachel says, trying to reach up to turn the speaker off (and this is one of the times she hates being so small.)

"We just gotta keep our heads in the game and focus," Finn adds, although it's clear that he's bothered too.

"Even though we know we can't win?" Santana asks.

"Yes," Mr. Schue speaks up suddenly, going over to Rachel and turning the speaker off for her. As she takes her place beside her teammates, he adds, "If this is all about winning for you, then I owe you all an apology, because I failed you. We should all just go home, because we've already lost. Besides," he says with more emphasis in his voice, "we have got something that the other teams don't."

"What?"

"Finn's dancing!" And just like that, the tension dissipates and they all break into smiles and laughter."Now come on, we've got two minutes. Aural Intensity's almost finished, let's go!" And with a rousing cheer and a chorus of 'break a leg's, they all head out.

"Hey, Rachel," Noah calls out as they move, causing her to look at him. "Good luck out there, okay?"

If this were any other person, she would've gasped indignantly and reprimanded him or her, telling them that saying 'good luck' before a performance was actually bad and the customary thing to say would've been "Break a leg." But it's Noah, it's one of the rare times he's called her by her first name, and honestly right now, she can't really bring herself to care about what's 'customary'.

(Cue butterflies again. She really needs to figure out why this keeps happening.)

"Thanks," she tells him with a big smile. "You too!" she manages to say before they part ways and she follows Finn. The smile doesn't leave even when she reaches the lobby and stands in her proper place, her body humming with excitement.

_Showtime. _

* * *

Rachel and Finn are standing in front of the auditorium doors, ready and waiting for their team to be announced. Her heart's hammering wildly in her chest, but it's a good kind of nervous, the same kind of energy that she knows she'll need once she starts to sing.

She turns her head, and she and Finn lock eyes. They stare at each other for a moment before meeting each other at the center of the room. "Break a leg," Rachel tells him with a smile.

"Friends?" Finn blurts out. Clearing his throat, he adds, looking a bit nervous but still smiling, "Look, I know you've got something weird going on with Puck, and I've got to fix things with Quinn, and that's cool. But I don't want us to be weird around each other, Rachel. So…friends?"

The opening strains of Journey's Faithfully suddenly resound, and they quickly go back to their original places. But before Finn enters and starts to sing, Rachel gives him a huge smile, and he nods with a grin of his own—and just like that, nothing more needs to be said.

_Restless hearts sleep alone tonight…_

As Rachel enters the auditorium, the spotlight and how many pairs of eyes are immediately turned to her, but she hardly notices it over the thumping of her heart. She's happy—happy that she's here, happy that she and Finn are friends again—and she pours that emotion into her singing as much as she can. This is her chance—their chance—to shine, and she's going to make the most of it.

They sound great together. Their voices blend perfectly, and as they're singing, she sees what attracted him to her in the first place. But it's not like before—now, she understands that yes, they have chemistry, and yes, he might be the more appropriate choice, but the only time they ever really work as a couple is when they're singing together.

When the rest of New Directions joins in, the crowd starts applauding wildly. When they start their mash-up of Anyway You Want It/Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin', the crowd jumps to their feet. It's energetic and fun and they sound really, really good, even better than the first group. Rachel feels great—she's always loved the rush of performing, especially high-powered, jump-around-and-dance numbers like this. It was the most fun song to rehearse, and later she will tell you that it was the most fun number they did.

And then they launch into Don't Stop Believin'. Faithfully was their introduction song, to show their skills and ability to sing with emotion. Anyway You Want It/Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin' was their middle song, to show their boundless energy and to get the crowd fired up. But Don't Stop Believin'…this is _their_ song, the one that best embodies their group, the one that started it all and most importantly, the one that shows just how far they've all come.

The first two songs were about skill and energy. This one is all about _heart_, and that, Rachel knows, is exactly why it is the perfect song for a show-stopping finale.

And judging by the audience's response, they seem to agree as well.

When it's over, they're met with a standing ovation and an almost deafening volume of cheering, and they're all so happy that they can't stop themselves from hugging each other on stage. Finn hugs her because they're standing beside each other, and while it's a nice hug, it definitely doesn't spark anything.

It makes her happier.

And at this moment, right here, she's not even thinking about what mistakes they might have made, or if they stand a chance against the other teams. She's far too happy to know that they're really here, they've really done it (and fantastically well, if you ask her).

That already seems like a victory in itself, and as the crowd continues to clap and cheer, she beams, knowing that this is one victory no one will be able to take away.

* * *

They skip and jump all the way backstage, the adrenaline rush from performing still in them, firing them up with a joyous kind of energy. They did it—despite all the odds, they were able to perform at Regionals, and judging from the crowd's reaction, they were able to perform amazingly.

_It sure feels amazing_, Rachel thinks. Seeing the group like this, all pumped and excited together, just goes to show how much closer and united everyone has become.

"We've got second place in the bag!" Tina says with a huge grin as they step down a small flight of stairs leading back to the dressing room.

"Screw that, we are gonna win this!" Rachel exclaims, feeling too happy to be negative. They step into the dressing room and everyone immediately launches into what seems to be a thousand conversations at once, all grinning and laughing.

This kind of high is so much better than Vitamin D.

As she looks around the room, she pauses once she notices something: Quinn's not here. That's odd, she was right behind them when they left the stage. Frowning, Rachel walks toward the entryway, deciding to look for her blonde friend.

She pauses in the entryway once she realizes that Quinn's right outside….with Mrs. Fabray. Rachel has half a mind to just leave them be—it is a private conversation, after all—but the temptation is too strong. So she rationalizes that she's just looking out for Quinn's well-being when she hides behind the wall and strains her ears to listen to their conversation.

"I left your father," Mrs. Fabray is saying. "Well, I kicked him out actually." Then her voice gets a little more choked up. "He was having an affair with some…tattooed freak."

Rachel doesn't even want to imagine how Quinn must look and feel right now.

Quinn's mom steps closer to her, looking at her daughter imploringly, and Rachel is surprised and relieved to see that she does look sincere. "Oh, Quinnie. I want you to come home with me. We…we can turn the guest room into a nursery." When Quinn doesn't say anything, Mrs. Fabray adds, looking even more pleading now. "Oh honey, say something."

Rachel waits for Quinn's response with bated breath. What will she say? Will she decide to go back to her mother, or stay with the Berry's? Quinn's wanted this for so long, acceptance from her parents, and now that she has it…._come on, Quinn_, Rachel thinks. _Say something._

She's so curious that she has half a mind to go over there and demand the answer herself, but before she can, Quinn finally speaks up and says the one thing Rachel never expected to hear (at least, not at this moment.)

"My water just broke."


End file.
